My Porcelain Doll
by The JohhnyMcKilt Productions
Summary: A fantasy love story about rediscovering forgotten pasts & childhood dreams. About losing someone who loves you and finding someone better yet not all the same. About how all the world conspires to help you see true love. OlixEnri
1. Chapter 1

A/N: my first actual Beyblade fanfiction and OliverxEnrique. The story's is quite confusing at first but please bear with me.

DISCLAIMER: NOTHING! I OWN NOTHING! not even the damned doll...

My Porcelain Doll Chap. 1 

The Giancarlo-Tornatores were one of the richest families in all of Italy. They marry only worthy spouses, coming from what they consider rich and noble families like theirs. From generation to generation, sons were taught the art of gladiating (is that what you call it? if not, have a laugh) Them and the daughters were taught French etiquette and charisma. If one thing made this family as rich and famous as it is, it was their natural charm in entertaining anyone.

"Enrique! Enrique Giancarlo Tornatore WAKE UP!" and once again their only son got thrown off his own bed. But the blonde toddler had taught himself not to cry in his mama's presence.

His 'mama' was a stern, lean, be-speckled woman. Her brown hair was always bunched in a tight bun at the back of her head. She was not an Italian, but a strict English governess. Enrique was too young to know that and had called her 'mama' all his four years of existence.

The small boy scrambled out of bed and ran to his bathroom, hurrying to wake himself up and be as alert as possible. He always took a quick shower, failing to maximize the luxury the gold room had to offer.

Enrique dressed quickly and raced to the dining hall, where he was to dine in perfect poise and deathly silence with his mama and the tutor.

He didn't like his mama nor did he like the tutor. The tutor was a long-nosed man with bucked teeth. He, too, came from England and had the most disgusting expression whenever he tried to speak French. Enrique barely ever met his father. His mama told him that he had to be away on business trips. So his only comfort was his favorite butler Gustav.

He never had any friends either. His mama insisted on a strict upbringing. The four walls of their gigantic _palazzi_ were his whole world. Enrique wasn't stupid either. He knew very well of a beautiful sunny landscape outside the tightly shut oak doors. He never learnt to play any street games, or any game for that matter. After breakfast, he had initial tutoring. The subjects consisted of arithmetics, general sciences, followed by geometry and basic chemistry. After a prim and proper luncheon, the afternoon was devoted to History, Speech, Literature, Proper decorum and French. That had no break until supper. And after supper he would go straight to bed, depending on whether his father came home or something. When his papa did come home, he was allowed a smidgen of bonding time, in which his father would tuck him into bed before departing again. This was the mundane routine every single damn day.

Yes...Enrique Giancarlo Tornatore was one of the richest kids in all of Italy (not just Rome...but Italy) He could have had everything he wanted in the snap of a finger. But his life was a miserable one.

TBC 

A/N: wahoo! review!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I might as well post the next chapters so that you guys could understand...

My Porcelain Doll Chap. 2 

Enrique stared out of his large bedroom window one sunny Saturday. He always got weekends off, and since he wasn't allowed out, sitting in front of the window became his favorite pastime.

Tears rolled down his cheeks and glistened in the sun as he watched boys and girls like his age run and play in the park with their mamas and papas. It was one of those many times when he wished he was NOT a Giancarlo-Tornatore. His hatred for his 'mama' grew stronger.

Enrique turned away from the lovely scene, wiping his eyes at the back of his hand. He wandered about the spacious room, looking for something to relieve his boredom. His portion of the _palazzi_ was silent, and so he ventured into its many rooms.

Enrique was lost, he knew it. He sighed hopelessly and resumed his futile search for a door when he saw...it. It was the most beautiful thing the barren house had to offer. The doll stood two and a half feet high. Her skin was a beautiful milky porcelain. Her eyes were bright amethyst stones and under her eyes were butterfly-wing markings of silver and blue. Her outfit was an elegant long gown made of sakura-pink, delicate, expensive Chinese silk. Embroidered satin shoes encased her delicate porcelain feet. Her soft expression was lovingly carved with elaborate detail. The delectable apple-red lips that stood out of her white skin had traces of a smile, like one remembering a lost past.

But what struck Enrique most was none of these. It was the soft big waves of bright green hair that crowned her delicate head. The blonde boy's mouth fell open at the beauty of the doll. He tried carrying her (for she was a bit taller than he) and found out that she was surprisingly light. His fingers touched the small smile of her lips and the beautiful detail of her white hands. He ran a small hand through her hair; it was the smooth texture of raw silk.

"My God..." he murmured in awe. Then he turned around and found a door, not quite remembering it being there. With the porcelain doll in his arms, he ran back to his room to examine her more carefully.

Enrique burst in his room and dissolved into tears once he shut the door. Papa wasn't home and his mama was especially mad today. He looked out of his window and beheld the beauty of Rome at night.

...then cried even more...

"Enrique? What are you crying about?"

The sniffing boy turned around to face concerned amethyst eyes, partly concealed by bright green locks.

**TBC**

A/N: I'll try and update when I can, for now that's all folks. And yes the doll very much resembles Oliver.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: aww my gawd! thanks for the reviews y'all! weee! here's more for ya!

My Porcelain Doll Chap. 3 

The Italian was unable to speak.

"What?"

The porcelain doll delicately slipped off the bed and went over to hug him.

"Why are you crying, _hijo?_" she repeated, stroking his hair.

"Mama scolded me again. She always does. She was never happy with me..." and the rest was mumbled into the doll's chest.

"Hush Enrique, lets put you to bed."

Enrique stayed in the doll's arms, feeling immense relief and comfort.

"Should I turn off the lights?" the doll asked.

"No..." the four-year old mumbled from under his covers.

"You'll find it hard to sleep..." she argued

A pair of angry reproachful eyes poked from under the sheets. "Open the door just a bit then..."

The porcelain doll smiled and shook her head, her shining green hair flowing like water.

The lights went out and the door creaked open an inch.

There was a minutes silence before Enrique asked, "Porcelain doll? Where are you?"

He felt weight beside him and something warm press close. "I'm here..." Enrique was just about to fall asleep when suddenly the door slammed shut.

Both of them stared into the darkness for a while. Enrique started sniffing. A porcelain arm wrapped around him and pulled him into a comforting hug.

"You can't keep crying every night you know..." the doll told him.

"How do you know I keep crying every night?" he snapped but instantly regretted it and rolled over to apologize. He was shocked to meet dazzling amethyst eyes.

"You cry every night when you're alone in the dark, I felt tearstains on the sheets the first time you laid me one them..."

Enrique snuggled closer to her. "I promise I won't cry anymore. But please stay."

Ah Giancarlo charm, it always works...

"Mama! Mama! Come and see! The porcelain doll, she talks!" the young toddler ran to the dining room, having just remembered last night's events.

"What on earth?" She was just about to reprimand him when Enrique grabbed her hand and dragged her to his room.

"Mama! Look! See?" he opened the door and pointed to the shocked doll.

"Enrique why are you here?" the doll asked, but fell silent when she saw the English governess.

"Talking dolls? Nonsense!" the stern woman glared at the white doll's jeweled eyes.

The boy's enthusiasm wilted. "Porcelain doll?"

The girl shook her green head. "Enrique...no..."

He tugged his mama's skirt again. "She's talking!"

"Enrique!" the doll warned, but she stopped when the boy noticed his mama's angry silence.

"Mama..."

SLAP!

Enrique was thrown off his feet. He held his cheek and shakily stood up, not a tear welling in summer blue eyes.

The doll made her way up the wardrobe and turned on the room camera. "Gustav please watch this..." she whispered.

"You have been a naughty, delinquent boy!" she advanced at him, rearing for another slap. Under her shadow, Enrique seemed to shrink against the wall.

The governess stopped. "No meals throughout the day..." she whispered. "The tutor shall be expecting you in an hour." And she left, slamming the door.

"Oh Enrique..." the doll made her way down the wardrobe and rushed to hug the violently shaking boy.

"You were speaking. I saw, and you know. Why didn't she see?" he asked.

"Don't bother to question her blindness...grown-ups are like that." she stroked the poof of his hair.

"I know enough to understand." he tried to smile. "Are all grown-ups like that?"

Amethyst orbs softened. "Not all...it depends."

They stayed in silence at the side of the wall.

"This is better than breakfast with the tutor..."

The doll laughed.

TBC 

A/N: gomen for any flaws i might have made...but hope you enjoyed!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: weee! Chap four! I'm so happy...

**My Porcelain Doll**

**Chap. 4**

"She cannot be my mama..." Enrique darkly told the porcelain doll as they both stared out of the big glass window one sunny Saturday.

She laughed; the butterfly markings sparkled under sunbeams.

"I guess the tutor does you some good...you've just had Genetics and Heredity yesterday didn't you?"

He smiled at her and returned to staring out the window. The porcelain doll sighed. She knew Enrique well, even before they met each other. But never once did she see a genuine happy smile on his face.

"Come away from the window. It's time I told you something." Enrique turned around to find the glittering doll on the bed. He nodded and sat beside her.

"What is it?"

Amethyst locked on sapphire, clearly telling him to hear her out. "She is not your mama..."

Enrique rolled his eyes. "Oh how I wish..."

"No!" a porcelain hand lay on his. "I have known your mama."

With this, he seemed to brighten. "My real mama? How?"

"I pray you understand." she said.

"I will..." he answered quietly.

"I was your mama's doll," she smiled. "Your mama...she was simply beautiful. A wealthy Venetian. Her family descended from a long line of artists tracing back to the late 1700's."

"The French Revolution..." Enrique said happily. "I like the French Revolution..."

"Your mama loved to paint." the doll continued. "Your papa met her when he traveled. He fell in love and both of them got married."

"Where do you come in?" the boy said bluntly.

She laughed. "Your papa told your mama that she needn't bring any necessities when she would move to this house. He will provide everything for her, and so she brought what was closest to her heart. Me."

"You talked to mama?" Enrique hoped.

"There is no need for words. We loved each other well."

"What about papa?" he asked. "Did he love you too?"

The doll glowed. "He was fond of both of us. I..."

Enrique was looking puzzled. "Where is my mama?"

Amethyst eyes dulled and the white doll bowed her head. "Your parents were ecstatic when they had you...Your father brought me to the hospital on the day of your mama's due date. I was seated by the window of the emergency room while your papa helped push...It...it was beautiful and sad at the same time."

Enrique turned away from the doll's beautiful face. He knew what was coming up next.

"She died at childbirth...didn't she?" He tried to face the beautiful doll but she got to him first, cupping her white hand to his hot cheek.

"Enrique..."

"What happened to papa?" he asked weakly.

"...First he hid me in your mama's room and locked all the doors leading to it. And then...he shut himself from the world and busied himself with work."

The boy stared at her, lost for words and waiting for more.

"He entrusted you to Gustav's care until your papa was able to find a suitable governess to properly handle you." she seemed uneasy dispatching the information.

Enrique was startled. "Papa remarried!"

"NO!" the doll smiled at his misunderstanding. "He didn't..."

"Then why should I have to call her my mama if she's just a paid governess?" he asked, the situation did not fit any logic lessons his tutor taught him.

"Don't hate your father for this Enrique...he didn't want you to know the truth...he figured it was best." the doll waited for the blonde boy's reaction.

"Well it's not..." he said weakly. "He doesn't come home very often. So he doesn't know what's happening!"

"Your father loves you very much, you know that." the doll looked at him pleadingly. "You look just like your mama..." she added softly.

Enrique stared at the doll hard before embracing her on the bed. "Thank you." he said.

A ting of the bell sounded in his room and the porcelain doll let go. "You'd better eat."

---

"Enrique, I want you to wash up again after lunch." the governess snapped when the boy entered the dining hall.

"Is the young master satisfied with the meal?" Gustav routinely asked when he served Enrique's lunch.

"Yes thank you Gustav." he listlessly began eating.

"Enrique did you hear me?" the governess asked heatedly. The addressed started at her...or more like glared.

"Yes. . .Tita."

The boy touched a nerve, he knew. "Who..." she asked menacingly, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Did not I remind you AGAIN AND AGAIN..." her voice had risen to a shout. "NOT TO CALL ME ANYTHING ELSE BUT YOUR MOTHER!"

There was a deafening screech. Enrique had stood up so violently that his chair toppled to the marble floor. "NO! I don't want to take ANYMORE of your abuse Tita! Treat me how you like but do NOT force me to call you mama! You aren't! YOU'RE NOT MY MOTHER! You have no right—"

And he was hit by such force that he was thrown off his feet. But before the governess got another chance to hit him for his impertinence, Gustav seized her wrist.

"ENOUGH! The boy is right." she wheeled around to face him but Gustav stood at full height, authority radiating off him. "I watch the security cameras _Senyora..._you beat him. I have not told the master, but if your behavior continues you WILL see the last of the this house!"

Enrique shakily stood up and glanced at the tutor, who was white-faced and stiff in his seat. "Gustav..." he said slowly.

"Come young master, to the kitchen." The butler let go of the governess's wrist with disgust. The young Italian nodded and hurried to the indicated room.

"I'll be watching you _Senyora..._" he heard Gustav warn his governess before shutting the door.

"I'm sorry Gustav!" Enrique burst out as they were in seclusion.

"No Master Giancarlo...I should be sorry..." the butler's resolve broke and he told he told the young boy everything he knew about his past.

**TBC**

A/N: do you guys understand it? sorry if you can't...I was watching Naruto while typing this...


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: alo...here's more for you guys!

**My Porcelain Doll**

**Chap.5**

"Porcelain doll! Porcelain doll! Papa is coming home!" Enrique burst into his room a Saturday two weeks after Gustav scolded his governess for abusing the toddler so.

The white girl turned to see a face full of joy. "Who told you? When?"

"Gustav told me! He's coming tonight! And he's staying for seven months!" Enrique tackle-hugged the doll in delight when she was speechless.

"S-seven months? Really?" she asked in disbelief when the boy released her. The blonde vigorously nodded..

"Gustav must've asked him to come." she looked at him pointedly.

"But why?" he asked. "It's not like Gustav did a wrong thing...telling me the truth. It's papa who should be spanked...he hid it from me."

The doll smiled. "Well you see he was waiting for the right age you'd fully understand his situtaion..."

"And to tell me at an older age when it's hard to change in what I believe in? I don't think that's a very good plan..." he retorted.

The doll was silenced at the answer. "All right you win. Your father doesn't know that you're mature enough anyway. Maybe that's why Gustav called your papa...to tell him you're ready."

Enrique stared. "Ready for what?"

The blue butterfly markings sparkled as she smiled. "A little something quite different from what the tutor teaches. A Giancarlo-Tornatore family tradition,"

The boy's happiness swelled up like a balloon. "Really? Do you know it?"

"I'm not spoiling the surprise!"

---

"PAPA!" The boy was given a great big bear hug and was placed on two strong shoulders.

"Hello Enrique...how is your mama treating you?" the big man chuckled as he asked.

"He's not my mama, papa." He told him enthusiastically. "I call her my Tita..."

The tutor, the governess and the butler among with servants were standing be when the young master imparted the eensy bit of confidential info. The governess turned to a shade of pruce, to which Gustav answered with something close to a Hiwatari death glare.

"Oh?" Enrique's father replied playfully. "Whoever told you that?"

"Gustav did..." the boy beamed.

The tutor, the governess and the servants were dismissed on the master's special request. Gustav, Enrique and Enrique's father were to have a family talk in the Master's Bedroom.

"May I be corrected sir. The reason I was driven to impart such knowledge was because the young master called the governess 'tita'. In which he had touched her nerve, and threatened to injure him." Gustav redeemed himself of blame once they were in the company of privacy,

"I knew that Gustav. But what we don't know is how Enrique got the information in the first place..." the father said sternly.

"The doll told me..." Enrique butt in, catching the attention of the grown men.

"Doll?" his father asked. "What doll?"

The toddler brightened and grabbed his father's hand. "Come and see! She's in my room!"

---

Enrique switched on the lights, successfully illuminating the solitary figure on the bed.

"Porcelain doll! My papa has come to see you!" he said and made her turn around.

Gustav didn't see it, but Enri did, even if it was only for a moment. His father and the doll suddenly looked like long separated lovers. Their meeting portrayed the ever famous running-across-the-meadow-and-kissing-slash-hugging-in-the-middle scene. It was beautiful.

When he blinked again, the doll was quite happy in his father's arms.

"Oh Dios..." he said to himself and stemmed his emotions for a couple of minutes.

"Ah...Enrique" his father asked him after a while. 'You don't like your governess that much now do you?"

"She's horrible papa..." came the small reply.

"Well you see there's nothing we can do about the way she disciplines you. You can't deny that she's done you some good. But here's the deal..." Summer blue eyes glowed in hope and Enrique stood straighter to listen.

"During my seven-month stay, your tita shall go on a vacation leave." the old man smiled. "Is that okay with you?"

Enrique beamed in happiness. "Perfect! Oh thank you papa!"

They all headed down for dinner.

"Papa..." Enrique asked as he carried his white doll. "Can't the tutor go too?"

The old man laughed. "Now you're asking for too much, my love. What I'll be teaching you won't take too much time..."

Enrique glanced at his doll who simply smiled back at him. It set him wondering what on earth would his papa teach him that the tutor couldn't.

**TBC**

A/N: hope you enjoyed that miina! x3


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: yeah! I love this fic! Hope ya do too!

**My Porcelain Doll**

**Chap. 6**

"Papa?" Enrique once asked during dinner. "What will you be teaching me?"

The porcelain doll, who was beside him at table, eyed him warily. His father chuckled.

"You are the youngest in our family's history to be taught this lesson," he said fondly. "I was taught at six. My brothers were taught so late as eleven to twelve!"

"What is it papa?" Enri asked, the piece of info having not helped at all.

"You'll find out soon, my son...you will..."

And so their lessons began. It took most of Enrique's day since he still had tutoring but he was never happier in his life. It was him, his dad, the porcelain doll, Gustav...and maybe the tutor, but he didn't really matter. No _tita_. He was free.

"I think I'm starting to get what you said about me being ready for papa to teach me this..." Enrique slyly told his doll as they climbed into bed.

She feigned innocence. "Really? I hope whatever he's teaching you goes somewhere..."

She didn't know what but something happened that night when Enrique stared long and hard at her after she said that. She felt ashamed and wanted to apologize for her insensitivity, but the summer blue gaze held her fast.

"It will..." Enrique said softly and they both fell asleep.

---

Seven months fly by so fast when you're having fun with your dad and your toys. Seems strange...

"Papa won't be able to stay long enough for my birthday!" an alarmed blonde asked Gustav one Saturday, having noticed his father's unusual absence.

"I'm afraid so young master," replied the butler solemnly. 'Work is calling him back. His stay is nearly over."

Enrique left the kitchen dejected. His papa was never home for his birthday...presents were not enough. And besides, he knew his tita would come back.

"Enri? Anything wrong?" a soft voice greeted his arrival into the bedroom.

At the porcelain doll's question, he seemed to brighten and jumped into bed with her. "Dad's seven months are almost up." he said softly, reddening slightly at the amethyst gaze partially hidden under green bangs.

"That's okay..." she said consolingly. "I'm sure he'll make up for your birthday."

She noticed that Enrique was growing quieter and quieter as his lessons progressed. It wasn't a bad silence, but a thick one nonetheless. She had a wild hunch about what it was, but she was in no position to guess.

"Your tita should loosen her hold on you now...you ARE the master of the house..." she tried comforting him.

Enrique didn't respond and stared at the bedsheet. The doll was mildly alarmed.

"Enrique? Are you—ah!" she gasped softly as the young blonde gripped her delicate white shoulders and looked her in the eye.

"Porcelain doll," he began resolutely but the seemingly lost his strength and let her go. He slipped off the bed and stared out the window.

The grass-crowned doll was stunned at first before breaking into a soft smile. She joined the toddler by the view and held his hand, leaning her small head on his shoulder.

---

It was a rainy Sunday. Little Enrique and his beautiful white doll raced down the grand staircase across the hall and to the double oak doors.

"Papa!" He called breathlessly to a tall lean man in a formal suit. "Papa..." he repeated, as the man bent down to give him a bear hug. "Can't you stay for my birthday?"

Enrique's father smiled. "Don't worry Enri,I promise I'll give you a gift enough to compensate all your birthdays, past and to come."

"To come?" he said, alarmed. "Then you..."

"I won't be coming home for a long time, love..." his father informed him softly.

Tears welled in summer blue eyes. "Papa!" he called as his father turned around and headed to the limo.

"I love you Enrique!" his dad called before driving out of sight.

"Papa..." Enrique whispered weakly as he was ushered back by a very concerned butler.

"The young master should get some rest." Gustav said and bade the toddler to his room.

Once they were in solitude, the doll spoke.

"Look, your tita isn't coming back till after two days. She'll miss your birthday..."

"Which is tomorrow..." Enrique said sourly. "Why cant've papa stayed for at least one more day?"

"He's going to give you a present that might last you a life time..." she reminded him of his father's promise.

Enrique looked at her for a long time before smiling weakly and falling asleep.

The doll stood up to turn off the lights, sighing at Enrique's actions. _He'll sleep it off..._

_---_

Sure enough, Enrique was as bouncy as anything the following morning. The rain had cleared and the air smelled sweet.

"Porcelain doll! Porcelain doll!" the blonde five year old shook her awake. "I have something to tell you!"

"Wh-what?" she mumbled, rubbing sleep out of her jeweled eyes.

She was met by a face full of sunshine. "Er...Enrique?" she asked, fearful for his sanity when the toddler frenched her so expertly that even the boy's dad can't do it to his own wife.

**TBC**

A/N: yeah! we didn't see that now did we? ...or did we? ah well...


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: yeah! here's another for y'all! Enjoy! It's just a shortie...and we might fast forward a bit...

**My Porcelain Doll**

**Chap. 7**

After what seemed like forever, they both came up for air panting slightly. The porcelain doll's cheeks were slightly pink under her butterfly-wing markings.

"Is that the reason why you were acting to sick?" she asked him.

The toddler scratched his cheek and smiled apologetically. "I didn't know what it was called and how you should handle it until papa cleared it for me during my lessons."

The doll smiled and cupped his cheek with a small hand, kissing him gently.

"Happy Birthday..."

Enrique beamed at her for a few minutes before remembering something and snapping out of his thoughts. "Oh...are...are you okay?" he asked the doll hurriedly. "About how I feel?"

She smiled. "Of course..." she said and they hugged each other.

Whether this love was a fling, puppy or true...it's up to you guys...

---

Two days later, Enrique's tita effectively plunged the whole estate into gloom at the first step. The only person who seemed happy to see her was the tutor, who could finally have an outlet for all the annoyance he kept bottled up for seven months. Her gloom, however, did not affect the two lovers. To be honest, the governess was relieved that Enrique had grown up a bit. She didn't know what happened but his father's visit had done him some good.

((time lapse...start!))

((keep going...))

((almost there...))

Three years have passed since Enrique first professed love to his porcelain doll. Their relationship was still as sweet as it was during their first kiss. Though the daily routine was more mundane than cow-tipping, it never really bothered both of them, having each other for support.

Besides...this was a year to celebrate. His tutoring will end on the eve of his ninth birthday and his tita's term is about to end. Finally he could live a normal life like other kids his age.

It was a Saturday and 8 year old Enri was again looking out of his favorite window, fascinated by a game being played by two kids, surrounded by an enormous crowd. The beautiful sound of clashing metals was heard over the cheers.

"Porcelain doll! Look, love! It's so beautiful..." he said in awe. His girlfriend joined him by the window and saw the on-going beybattle.

"I've always wanted one of those since I saw them on TV." he pointed to the circling beyblades.

The porcelain doll froze at his words and looked at his face with an expression of disbelief. She knew Enrique watched the commercial only last week.

"Ah well..." he turned away from the window. "I'm off to lunch...coming?" he asked her.

The doll smiled weakly. "Your tita's downstairs." she reminded him.

"Oh yeah..." Enrique said disconcertedly and left the room.

The doll returned to watching the battle. Her amethyst eyes could've not expressed more hatred than ever for the spinning tops.

"You can never take my Enrique away from me..."

**TBC**

A/N: wooo...ended at an angry note there...anyway, hope you liked it! don't kill me! ((squeals))


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: hey! Thanks for continuing to read my fic!

Disclaimer: I don't own nothing…

**My Porcelain Doll**

**Chap. 8**

The days that followed were the most distressing one's the doll ever had. Her boyfriend, Enrique would talk endlessly about beyblades beyblades and only beyblades. He would tell what he knew to anyone who would listen, Gustav, the servants, the cook, the gardener, the chauffer, the tutor…and sometimes even the governess…

Frankly, not only did the porcelain doll felt annoyed and jealous about the diverted attention but also she was getting extremely tired of all talk about…whatever concerning the damned sport.

It was true that Enrique seemed to care very little for anything else…

"…the gears have got to be one of the most important parts in a beyblade…"

"Enrique…"

"…it makes the beyblade more efficient, y'see? And…"

"Enrique…"

"…other gears are made engine gears to launch special attacks…"

"ENRIQUE!"

"…what?"

The porcelain doll took a couple of calming breaths before taking her love's hand in hers. "Your tita's term is ending tomorrow. I overheard Gustav talking about it this afternoon…"

The pair was on the wide veranda of a totally wicked bedroom opposite the wing where Enrique's bedroom was. It was a very sunny Saturday and the blonde boy wanted to explore the house for kicks.

At his girlfriend's words, she seemed to brighten a bit. (Well…he was already bright since he watched a beybattle on KNN that morning.) "Oh…really? Cool…"

He took a deep breath and was about to launch a lengthy talk about attack rings when the doll beat him to it.

"What're you planning to do tomorrow?" she asked.

Enrique shrugged. "Nothing…I guess, we'd have more freedom and time for each other…" he smiled.

"And then after tomorrow we'd have even more time to ourselves than ever before…" she suggested hopefully for him, but then her resolve wilted as she saw Enrique falter. "What is it?"

"I've got my exams on Monday." He said blankly. "And it's going to last for three weeks…"

"Why so long?" the doll asked softly.

"Well it's made up of seven years of lessons. It's gotta be long…" he smiled weakly. "I'd have to study…"

The doll was counting. "Your birthday's on a Saturday three weeks from now…by then the tutor will leave and you're an officially free nine-year old!" she declared happily.

"Yeah…" Enrique was nodding, slowly coming out of his gloomy state. "I'd have more time for beyblades!"

The doll wasn't expecting that…

--

The next morning, Enrique was hiding in his golden bathroom.

"Master Enrique, your tita is leaving. Do you not want to part?" the butler asked through the intercom.

The young Italian huffed and jabbed the red 'call' button hard with his finger. "No. Way. In hell."

Gustav, the governess and the tutor were by the double oak doors. The old lady had already packed. Two formidable luggage bags that served her almost nine years were by her side.

He sighed at the boy's reply and turned to the waiting pair.

"Well Signora?" Gustav asked skeptically.

"You can't blame him…she said tartly and turned to the tutor." Goodbye."

They parted with a polite handshake and a brief hug. Gustav raised an eyebrow.

"Best be off Signora…" he muttered and bowed low then led her out.

Enrique and the porcelain doll poked their heads out at the same time to watch his tita leave, he from the bathroom and she from the bedroom. They saw each other and smiled naughtily.

As soon as they heard Gustav shut the door, the pair emitted screams and whoppings of mirth and joy. (Maybe one of the reasons why the tutor was pissed the next day,) The butler shook his head with a smile and returned to his duties.

**TBC**

A/N: MIINA! IM SOOOO SORRY IF MY SUPPOSEDLY ITALIAN IS SPANISH…I've never had experience with Italian myself…Spanish is the closest I know…xP


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: …this fic is on a roll…

**My Porcelain Doll**

**Chap. 9**

The porcelain doll had mixed feelings for the three weeks that followed after Enrique's tita had left for good.

She was happy for many points. The young boy had ceased ecstatic talk about beyblades. She could be brought downstairs to eat with him at table like she did the last time Enri's father was here some four years ago. The large villa was more lively now that the governess was gone and more of the servants were seen up and about.

The downside was that, Enrique was so preoccupied with his exams, they couldn't take strolls together, or even talk at night. She would give anything to make him smile. It gave her consolation to know that it was this period that Enrique needed her the most.

It was a Friday, the eve of Enri's ninth birthday and the young boy was sitting his last exam. Him and the tutor were oddly alone in the large living room. The house seemed even more desolate than when the governess was in there. The white porcelain doll was waiting for her love on the couch.

It was the last item and Enrique knew very well what the answer was but hesitated to write it. He looked up at his tutor checking his previous exams.

"How did I do sir?" he asked softly.

The tutor was mildly startled at the interruption. But then smiled when he saw the boy's face.

"You did well Enrique, very well…" he was just smiling at him like that for a while when he came to and pointed to the paper.

"One last number. I'll be able to check it today and you'll be scot-free…" said the tutor and returned to his checking. Enrique nodded and wrote his final answer.

"Good…"

The Italian sat stiffly in his chair with his doll beside him. The tutor's luggage was waiting for their owner by the door. It was like he was going to check-&-run.

Then, at long last, "Im proud of you Enrique. You did very well these past few weeks. High marks." The tutor stood and kept his exams in a suitcase, then got his hat. Enrique, too stood up, followed by an anxious doll. He was at a loss for words. The tutor had collected his belongings and was heading out the door. Gustav was too busy to see him out; the servants knew nothing.

He was the only one to see him go.

"Sir!" Enrique called, having an urge to say something at the very least…It was like the hastiness of leaving was only sinking now.

The tutor looked back. "Hm?"

"Th-thank you…"

The man seemed surprised and touched. It was only for a while. His face broke into another smile.

"I'll mail your results to your father, okay? As of now…goodbye."

And the door closed shut.

Enrique was sincerely very sorry to see the tutor go. He never liked him, he knew that. But still he felt an odd sense of loss. He came to when a pair of white arms circled his waist and squeezed gently.

"Oh Enri…" the doll cooed softly.

He smiled down at her. "We have a full day ahead." He said and took her hand. "It's been a while since we took a walk in the Gardens…"

--

Enrique's ninth birthday was one of the best birthdays he had ever had. In the morning, he was roused by a smiling Gustav holding a happy porcelain doll. The three came down to a huge breakfast and birthday party prepared by all the servants. And even if they weren't technically his family, the young boy talked, ate, laughed and chatted with them as if they were like one. Then they played games and sang at the karaoke machine. After a fulfilling lunch, they all sat in the living room to watch a wicked boxing match between two of Mexico's most celebrated boxers (Morales and…Larios? Jowk…ahahaha!) Towards the evening, the servants dispersed to tidy up and prepare a special dinner. That's when Gustav presented Enrique with his first gift in how long.

"Your papa delivered this by mail."

The boy's eyes widened. He and his doll exchanged looks of great surprise and glee.

"I'll…I'll open it later after we eat." He said, resisting great temptation as he went to his room to place it there.

--

"Come on, love! Open it already!" it was about bedtime and the green-haired doll was bouncing excitedly on the bed.

Enrique held the box with trembling hands. It was a neat, fairly medium-sized box. The lid and container were a shiny orange. The whole package was sealed by a mere purple ribbon.

"Could this be the gift that would compensate for all my birthdays?" he asked breathlessly.

"Could be…" the doll shrugged.

Enrique delicately undid the knot and opened the lid, finding a folded letter inside.

"It's from papa!"

_My dear Enrique,_

_I am very sorry if I have not visited you for so long. So I see to it that I have kept my promise. Here is your gift, my love. I made it myself just for you. Use it well and make me proud. We shall see each other again._

_Love, _

_Your papa_

The doll reread the letter while Enrique examined his gift. "'I made it myself, use it well?'" she quoted but got no response and looked up to find a stunned frozen boy staring at the box. She followed his gaze and saw what he was looking at. They were beautifully handcrafted, wrapped in a deep maroon silk.

"It's a…lt's a…!" Enrique stammered.

The porcelain doll was horrified.

**TBC**

A/N: …it's chapter nine right? After chapter ten…after chapter ten, not chapter nine. As in after chapter ten…Oliver's coming up.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: weeee! I'm so happy and proud of this story! Thanks y'all for reviewing! If you guys have any questions you could review it to me! Oliver's coming at chapter eleven, I think I told you guys that last time...oh yeah, BTW, those who reviewed that they thought Enri'd be getting a new doll blew me off the floor. Haha! And now for the end of the long wait...

**My Porcelain Doll **

**Chapter Ten**

Enrique was ecstatic. He bounced up and down like a toddler, obviously very happy about the gift he got.

"Papa made me a beyblade! Papa made me a beyblade!" he sang.

What the doll felt was the complete opposite. She sat on the bed, stunned and staring transfixed at the box. It was only till the blonde bounced in her face that she came to. Her beautiful face was lined with disappointment.

"Do you think we can try it now?" he asked.

"N-now? But it's evening already—" she stammered...but Enrique wasn't listening.

"It's beautiful..." he whispered breathlessly, taking hold of the orange box and tilting it to the side so that the pieces were splashed with light.

"Enri NO!" the doll blurted out suddenly making the boy jump and almost drop the box.

"What!" he asked.

The porcelain doll stopped and checked herself. She was acting irrationally. Enrique's bound to notice her apparent dislike of the object he loved so much. But she simply can't bring herself to enjoy the beyblade as much as Enri did.

"What?" Enrique asked again, less panicky.

She forced herself to smile. "...it's nothing..."

He stared at her long and hard, then sighed and put down the box. "Honestly, you've been acting strange recently. Is something wrong?"

The doll retreated into herself. "Don't bother yourself, love. This is my problem, not yours..." she looked up at him, who huffed in satisfaction.

"Well we always tell each other our problems..." he reasoned. "I'll listen when you feel like telling them to me, okay? No secrets...remember that."

She stared at the bedsheet and nodded, then looked up again to find the Italian examining his shiny new beyblade. Her torments have just begun...

--

Enrique's bedroom was oddly hot the following morning. Sunlight streaming through drawn curtains oddly multiplied the dust a hundred times.

The porcelain doll sat up and rubbed the sleep from her bejeweled eyes. She looked around to find the small sanctuary devoid of air conditioning and virtually empty.

She jumped off and searched the side of the beds, making sure Enrique had not fallen off again. Then she peeked out the door, mildly wondering why on earth would her boyfriend be up this early.

Then she heard voices downstairs.

"So our Master Enrique has opened his papa's gift, I see..." Gustav was saying.

"Please! Oh _may_ I try it outside?" came Enrique's plea.

The doll heard the butler laugh. "All right, signor. But before that let me show you another present, made by yours truly and the servants of this household."

"Really?" Enrique asked, not being accustomed to receiving this much gifts before, lest receiving any at all...

"Come with me outside _hijo..._" said the butler and the pair walked out the oak doors.

Through Enrique's favorite window, the doll saw the two head for the direction of the courtyard. She quickly retreated back into the room and hurriedly dashed through a small concealed door leading to an unused ballroom with a nice big view of the yard. She followed them as the butler led the boy to a large bit of greenery and pressed a button on the small remote that he held.

Amethyst eyes widened as the grass gave way to a big red dish. From where she was, she saw Enrique jump up and give Gustav a hug. And to add to her great surprise, the butler too pulled out his own beyblade and battled with the young blonde. The servants came out to watch.

That afternoon, Enrique came into the room. The porcelain doll was staring wistfully out the window and turned her pretty head to acknowledge him. She almost fell off the ledge.

"YAAGH!"

Enrique turned look at her. 'What?"

She stood up shaking and Enrique raised an eyebrow.

"Enri?" she asked. "Wh-wha..." words failed her, the big yellow hydra engulfing her boyfriend proved too much of a shock to make her comprehensive.

"Well if you ever have anything sensible to say, say it later..." he said and grabbed his orange box, then rapidly left the room.

Well if that didn't come as a bigger shock for the doll I don't know what will. She was appalled at his coldness and was plunged in a deep depression.

Days flew by so fast the doll was hardly able to keep track of time, much less what was happening around her. She never left her and Enri's room. Most days she stayed by the window, contemplating sunlight. Enrique came in from time to time, they never exchanged a word or look. Soon even these short visits dwindled; the boy didn't even sleep in his own room anymore. The doll didn't know what was happening either, what she only heard were shouts and cheers from the TV room.

--

Enrique came in his bedroom late one Sunday night. The porcelain doll was yet again sitting of the ledge of their favorite window. A breeze was playing with her shiny green hair.

"Porcelain doll?"

She looked up, surprised. Her jeweled eyes were dull lavender. "Something wrong?" It seemed like there always was something wrong.

Enrique shook his head, looking oddly uneasy. "I'll be going away for a while..."

That shook her out of her misery...or probably added to it. "What! Why!"

The boy looked hurt at the outburst. The doll steeled herself.

"Is there something I should know?" she asked softly.

"Well since you don't know, I'm the representative of Rome in the regionals...so I'll be staying in Milan for the competition." he said quite hotly.

"But you've never been out of the house!" she protested, straightening her sitting position.

"I have, thank you very much!" Enrique replied loudly, grabbing a large backpack and suitcase from under the bed.

"You didn't tell me..." she said weakly softly, her frustration slowly rising.

"ME!" the blonde shouted. "It's you who doesn't speak to me! I don't know what your problem is!" he started shoving random items and clothing in his bags.

"How could you say that?" the doll retorted, fury in full. "Every single day, you're out beyblading! That's all you do!" she got off the ledge and faced him. "I've always wanted to talk to you Enri..." she began, shaking. "But not so much as a hello, a smile from you! Nothing that would reassure me that I still exist in your life!"

"Tell me will you! What's wrong with me beyblading all day? It's the first time I actually enjoyed being a kid in my entire life. I'm HAPPY!" he yelled.

"Just tell me if you still love me!" asked the doll. "And not that stupid thing!"

"So that's it!" The young Italian threw his bag down and glared at her. "Ever since I got Amphilyon you've been bitter about it...you're jealous and selfish!"

Oh so he DID notice. "How can I not be?" the doll asked, yelling back. "You spend every waking minute with that thing! You don't even sleep here anymore! It's always beyblade, beyblade and beyblade!"

Enrique slung the backpack over his shoulder and yanked open the door with much force that it ricocheted off the wall.

"You are so shallow, I thought you'd think deeper than that." He said darkly. "You don't like me happy do you? So that you'd have someone to comfort all the time...I can't believe you..." and with that, he walked out and slammed the door behind him.

The porcelain doll slowly sank into the bed, crystaline tears were streaming down her face. Enrique was right. She screwed up. She screwed up big, really big.

"ENRIQUE!" she yelled and shot out of bed, bursting through the door, hoping to find him there and apologize.

But he was gone...

--

Enrique did not come back for a very. long. time. The estate was as happy as the little bedroom was sad, so to say the least. But then it sounds like an understatement. The young Roman's abilities (as well as his name) became more known throughout the public and the blonde slowly made his way to the top with exceptional skill.

Of course, every single battle was so enthusiastically watched and cheered on by Gustav, the servants and other helpers.

The young boy toured Italy...and did not return till after his tenth birthday. Or in other words, till he was number one...the best.

--

The little bedroom had collected dust over the many months it was untouched. It's little doll had taken permanent residence on the of the bed, listlessly staring into space and mulling over the past. The good times were long gone...

"Signor Gustav! He is coming!" a young chambermaid shouted from the golden bathroom near the bedroom, alerting all the villa's inhabitants.

The doll blinked in mild surprise and roused herself to peek through the small crack in the door. The house looked like a fiesta. And, making a grand entrance, the double oak doors swung open revealing a slim black limo with a handsome, gangly teen coming out of it.

...accompanied by two lovely ladies...a blonde and a redhead.

Let me tell you something about these two ladies.

The blonde's name was Bianca, daughter of a rich businessman in Padua. She was a fairly perky bitch and had pastel yellow hair and faded green-blue-grey eyes. The redhead's name was Rosette, a French-born but was raised in the beautiful countryside of Tuscany. Her parents owned a vast vineyard, so everyone in the family knew very well how to drink. She had bright orange hair and sea-deep eyes.

Weirdly enough, Rosette and Bianca were the best of friends despite the distance. The whole country was their leisure park and shopping mall.

Gustav commented on them first.

"Ah, Enrique..." they exchanged manly hugs. "Who are these?" he asked with a sly smile.

"My beautiful girlfriends, Gustav." Enrique smiled broadly and pinched both their asses. "Fangirls that caught my eye...Rosette and Bianca."

Rosette shook Gustav's hand, which the butler kissed courteously. Bianca giggled modestly and nodded in acknowledgement, still clinging to Enrique.

"I'm very pleased to meet you Signoras..." the butler smiled amiably.

"It's glad to be home!" Enrique sighed, moving from the front door and into the living room, bumping into a table laden with...

"Food..." Bianca and Rosette said in unison, resuming their position on either side of the Italian boy.

"Woah..." he said when he spotted it. "I'm going to grow fat..."

"WELCOME BACK MASTER ENRIQUE!" The servants greeted (quite loudly) simultaneously.

Bianca oggled. "Wow...they call you master..."

He gave her a peck. "Not as you will in bed..."

Her eyes widened. "You're a naughty boy with naughty thoughts..."

"This is a welcome party for you signor!" Gustav slapped Enrique's back. "For the best blader in all of Italy!"

Cheers erupted from the living room and the porcelain doll wanted to hear no longer. She lashed out in the room, draining all her energies and collapsing on the floor crying.

Crawling back to the crack on the door, she took one last peek, just in time to see Enrique expertly frenchkiss his girlfriends before partaking of the feast.

--

She felt very much like what she was...a porcelain doll. Small, insignificant, no intelligence, no emotion...a beauty to the eye but no more than that...

Breakable into a thousand shards at the most fragile of touches...

"Hey Gustav, the Beyblading Liga Italia's sponsoring some poor orphanages in Africa...I need some donations..." Enrique said, wandering outside his old bedroom.

"What would the young master like me to do?" asked the butler.

The blonde knocked on the short blue door. "Clean this out...give everything in it to charity. I'm thinking of moving to the room upstairs." he smiled. "The one on top of this..."

"The guest room?" Gustav asked, mildly surprised, after calling some maids to do what Enrique wished.

"Why do the guests get a better room than me? I'm the master of this house..." he shrugged. "Well...next to papa, but he ain't here. I can claim any room I want."

AT SOME ORPHANAGE...

"Look! A broken doll!" a small boy spotted a grimy doll by the canal.

"The social workers must've dropped it while taking out trash." his older sister said. "Throw it away...it's disgusting..."

The small boy held the doll wistfully, it's amethyst eyes were indeed pretty, but nevertheless, he threw it behind his back and giggled mischievously when he heard it smash.

**TBC**

A/N: is it weird for an authoress to apologize for a very long chapter? I don't know whether I should do it...my work with this thing's a bit messy...hope you enjoy it, xD

OLIVER'S COMING UP NEXT! X3 REVEIW!

...and no Enri didn't shag with Bianca OR Rosette...he never will, Oli shall be the first to claim his virginity...in a side story...


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: OJC! this is so cool! thanks y'all for reading my story! I'm happy when you guys review...

Disclaimer: I don't own anything...no, not even Romero...xP

**My Porcelain Doll **

**_Chapter Eleven_**

Frankly, Enrique was extremely nervous. It was his first time out of the country...alone.

Bianca and Rosette had begged him sky-high to take them to Paris. He honestly forgot the reason why he didn't take them...perhaps it was so that he could focus more.

The blonde Italian was leaning on the grey wall adjoining the BeyStadium and the locker rooms, looking up at the breathtaking hoards of roaring crowds. They were mostly French, the preliminaries were being held in the heart of Paris, but there were numerous supporters too from other European countries. There were small disputes in the stands between the Engilsh and the Germans...but that didn't spoil the fans' fun.

He sighed and returned to his locker room. The big screen started announcing the delegates representing each country followed by deafening screams.

"...from Spain! Romero Fernandoez! And now our honor roll...these guys have got the BEST scores in the record!" the announcer bellowed over screams and the drumroll. "From Italia...Enrique Giancarlo-Tornatore! From Germany...Robert Jurgen!"

Enrique smiled from his bench. His dream of entering a world class tournament finally coming true. He just hoped he'd win the preliminaries...so he wouldn't let his country down and end the dream so soon...

"...From Scotland! Johnny McGreggor!"

That was followed by a particularly loud cheer.

"Hello..." a voice greeted Enrique.

The blonde looked up to find a lean, haughty Scott with maroon-red hair and dark blue eyes.

"Hey..." he replied smilingly and stood up to shake the other boy's hand. "Enrique Giancarlo..." he introduced.

The Scott nodded. "Oh...you're the one from Rome. I'm Johnny..."

"Hello..." Enrique said again, the conversation becoming increasingly uneasy.

They both turned to watch the profiles of various beybladers being flashed on the big screen.

"...and the pride and joy of Paris..." the announcer stalled dramatically, introducing the last delegate. The profile and close-up picture appeared on the screen...and the name was drowned in an utterly deafening roar.

Enrique's mouth fell open. Johnny saw this and smiled.

"I know that look..." he said knowingly. "Courted him the first time I saw him...feisty one, that one..." he jerked a thumb at the big screen.

"When did you two meet?" Enrique asked him as they both walked back to their locker rooms.

Johnny shrugged. "We had a few matches back then. It's a sort of exposure for new beybladers..."

"Johnny!" a bright voice spoke behind them. The pair wheeled around and saw a grass-green haired French boy wearing a blue beret and the most striking combination of outfits.

"Is that you?" said he, approaching them to get a better look.

Enrique had a clueless look on his face while Johnny broke into a smile.

"Hello Oliver...how's it been?"

"H-he's a boy?" Enrique blurted out in disbelief, trying to comprehend how someone as beautiful as him...could be...a boy. (hah...remember our Enri-poo grew up within four closed walls)

Oliver smiled brightly, taking no fault at the statement. "Don't fuss...I get that all the time..."

Johnny turned to the blonde. "Oh...so you aren't gay?" he asked bluntly.

Enrique blinked. "Uh...no...I've got two girlfriends..."

"Ah...you're a playboy..." the Scott concluded, earning him a whack from Oliver.

"You're a bad influence Johnny!" he scolded.

"And you're a tease..." was the retort.

The Italian couldn't help but laugh. "You banter like an old married couple..."

"Perharps we are..." Oliver said gleefully and Enri's eyes widened.

Johnny thwaped the Frenchman lightly. "Now who's the bad influence?"

"Oh liven up!" the green haired boy squealed and roughly massaged Enrique's shoulders to no effect. It just ended up with the Italian crying out, shrugging away and laughing.

"You're new..." Oliver said, scrutinizing him. "I'm good at remembering faces...and I haven't seen you before."

"You wouldn't..." Johnny informed him. "Enrique here's a Giancarlo-Tornatore. They aren't allowed out of the house till they're nine-ish..."

"There's more to that..." Enrique mumbled, supporting Oliver who was piggyback-riding him. "And what does my history have to do with anything!"

"You poor thing!" Oliver sympathized. "You're practically a martian!"

"I'm not..." the blonde whined. "Just watch me at the dish..."

Johnny smiled and Oliver elegantly raised an eyebrow.

"Is that a challenge?" the Frenchman asked, tone becoming serious.

The Italian giggled. "It might be..."

Johnny pinched his cheek. "He's adorable ain't he?" he told Oliver, who slid off.

"I like your attitude..." he remarked, smiling meaningfully at Enri.

--

It was a very good start. Enrique had defeated Portugal, Greece, Belgium and Norway for the better part of the morning. He was wandering around the stadium, watching other matches as well as looking for him new found friends.

"Hey! You got off early!" Oliver came out of somewhere are caught up with him.

"Are your matches done?" Enrique asked him, finding himself unable to stop smiling.

Oliver did something between a nod and a shrug. "The preliminaries are awfully short this year..."

"Well...It's my first so I wouldn't really know..." the blonde replied and the pair resumed walking around, talking mostly about beyblade and criticizing the matches they passed by.

By the time they reached their lockers rooms, they were chatting and laughing like they were old friends. That was the only time when Johnny joined them. The Scott wasn't exactly in an agreeable mood.

"The judges said they're be announcing the top five that'll be battling this afternoon..." he said gruffly, plopping down on the bench and fanning himself.

"Last one standing wins right?" Oliver asked.

"No..." came the curt reply.

"Wha--? Then what'll..." Enrique trailed off. He hoped to battle in the World Championships...everyone in the preliminaries did.

"The best among the top five'll represent Europe in the Championships..." the redhead informed. "...as a team..."

Oliver laughed, knowing very well that the Scott abhorred teamwork. "Is that why you're bitter?" he asked.

Johnny blushed slightly. "Not exactly..."

"How will they pick out the best in for the team?" Enrique argued. "The top five ARE the best..."

"For short...they're looking for four..." Johnny said.

"Wow..." Oliver remarked. "Sucks to be the odd one out..."

Enrique was watching the big screen, which switched from showing the different matches to the standing of each country.

"Hey..." he tapped Oliver and Johnny hard on their shoulders. "They're announcing the Top 5..."

The trio held their breaths as five countries appeared on the screen.

Spain

Scotland

Germany

France

Italy

It took a while for the news to sink in...

"We're in..." Johnny said blinking. "I wonder why England and Ireland didn't make it..." he speculated mildly as Enrique and Oliver erupted in cheers.

"This is great!" the Frenchman said. "I'll take you guys out for lunch. Let's go!"

"Uh oh...we're in for it..." Johnny smiled as Oliver fished out his cell phone and dialed his driver, speaking to the man in rapid French.

"Why's that?" Enrique asked as they reached the lobby.

"Y'know...I still can't stomach what I ate there last time..." the redhead told the frenchie.

"You're a lucky ass Johnny...I rarely give free meals, y'know...much less big ones." Oliver told him as the limo drove up.

"You own a restaurant?" Enrique asked him as they got in.

'It's world class..." Johnny said. "And this little squirt runs it..."

"Oh shut up..." Oliver shoved the Scott's hand from his head and turned to Enrique. "You've been cooped up in the house too long..."

"You guys exaggerate my lifestyle..." Enrique mumbled, blowing a raspberry at the other two.

"HeEey..." Oliver said, slowly brightening. "The German guy's also in the Top 5, right?" he smiled.

"Robert?" Johnny asked.

"You two close?" Enrique returned as the grass haired boy laughed.

"We've met..." he smiled, expertly steering the joke.

"You like him! You like him!" Oliver sang.

"No. I do NOT!"

--

"The preliminaries usually take two days, right?" Enrique asked over lunch. Oliver wasn't eating, but was watching his friends with a big happy smile on his face.

"Well...the European ones do..." Johnny replied. "Considering how many countries make up our continent..."

"It's not a good haul this year..." Oliver shook his head sadly. "Last year was better. Not we just get a bunch of amateurs..."

"Isn't Russia in Europe?" the Italian asked. "Why isn't there a Russian delegate?"

"Russia's never entered any of our preliminaries..." the young chef told him with mysterious air.

"I still don't understand why we have to have teams now..." Johnny interrupted, stabbing moodily at a potato with his fork. "Beyblading's a solo sport..."

"You're thinking the German guy's going to be picked." Oli teased.

"...and you two'll be together!" Enri added and they both laughed.

"Now you two idiots gang up against me..." Johnny rolled his eyes. "Enrique, stay away from Oliver, he ain't go for you..."

The blonde continued laughing as the Frenchman said, "Say that again McGreggor and you'll be paying for...that man's bill!" he said, pointing to a large table where a foreginer was entertaining his guests and numerous courses were being served.

"Bring it on, Les Desmond!" the Scott retored.

"Guys! Guys!" Enrique was trying to stiffle his giggling. "Save it for the dish!"

**TBC**

A/N: like it? Hope y'all did...review! and add there you Qs if you didn't understand this chappie...till next time! xD


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: wahoo! I'm typing at skewl! xD

**My Porcelain Doll **

**_Chapter Twelve_ **

The hair at the back of his neck rose as he felt Oliver's gaze on him.

Enrique lost concentration and Spain won the second round. The Italian wheeled around and glared at the green-haired boy who was standing at the hallway adjoining the stadium and the lockers. Oliver smiled and waved.

The blonde rolled his eyes and turned to the third round of his game, vowing to win and throw Spain out of the Top 5.

"What're you thinking?" a voice whispered in Oliver's ear as two hands gave him a pseudo-backrub.

The frenchie immediately relaxed and leaned into Johnny's chest.

"Nothing really..." he replied as they both watched Enrique's game. "I just feel like I've known him before, that's all. But the feeling's only very slight..."

The redhead looked at the said boy out on the dish. He was relieved to be handing Oliver to the care of someone he trusted...while he himself went out in pursuit of other things...

"Jonathan...we have a score to settle."

The Scott jumped a mile in the air and slowly turned to look. Oh. Speaking of other pursuits...

Oliver brightened but said nothing; leaving it up to Johnny whether he should introduce him or not.

"Hn. Robert this is Oliver." Johnny began. "Oliver this is Mr. Big Ass..."

The young chef nodded in acknowledgement, lavender eyes flashed mischievously as he retreated in the back ground."

"...and yes. I DO have a score to settle with you..." the Scott continued. "After this game..." he jerked his thumb towards Enrique out on the dish. "I haven't forgotten..." he smiled.

Robert returned it. "I thought too preoccupied in buying new pants." he said. "They're awfully tight..." and with that he walked away.

Oliver walked up to the stunned Johnny and stared after the German before bursting into hysterics.

"_Merdi Alors!_ No way..." the grass haired boy grabbed the redhead's shoulders and made him face him. "You ARE hard!"

"sSshut it!' the elder hissed, blushing horribly. Oliver was still giggling.

"What did I miss?" Enrique came in, a triumphant winner and emptied a large bottle of ice water. "Hey your game's up next." he added, slapping Johnny on the back.

"Yes..." he replied through gritted teeth. "And so I was so forcefully reminded a while ago..."

"You should've seen it Enri!" Oliver filled the clueless Italian in. "It was priceless!" and he began telling him the whole incident to him in French...poor Johnny...

Enrique's jaw dropped when they got to the punch line.

"Oh my god! No way!" and the pair fell into hysterics.

"You two are so weird..." Johnny mumbled and headed to the stadium.

"Ei! Good Luck!" the Frenchman and Italian called after him and they went to the stands, talking all the way, as there was a break before their own game.

--

Johnny lost...that was a laugh.

It was even a bigger one when Oliver tried to invite Robert to go with them and eat...to no avail.

Enrique was oddly quiet all throughout break time. He was thinking about the upcoming match with Oliver. He had seen the Frenchman play. It seemed like he won so effortlessly without the use of whatsoever attack and just by the power of his pink beyblade. It wasn't like he Enri didn't like that too...it simply didn't mean that the young chef was like other competitors he had won against.

At least he had one thing the other's didn't have.

...a Holy Bitbeast.

His beautiful Amphilyon.

"Earth to Enri!" Oliver almost yelled in Enrique's ear, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Aren't you going to eat?"

"Aren't you nervous?" he returned, accepting the croissant being handed to him.

"At least he gets nervous, Oli..." Johnny said. "You don't...you big airhead."

Oliver whacked him with his half-eaten french bread. "I worry too Johnny. I just don;t let it get in the way of my performance. 'Say I'm used to diverting it..."

"It's my first time..." Enrique said, taking a bite out of the pastry.

"Don't use it as an excuse," Oliver warned him, sipping his tea with utmost elegance. "There's something called beginner's luck..."

The blonde stuck his tongue out. "Excuse me...I've got skill."

"So you're telling me preliminary registrations are skill?" Johnny said.

Enrique nodded. "Acrobatic skill..."

Oliver laughed. "Corny, Giancarlo...very corny..."

--

Rosette called him over the cell phone just before his match. She wished him good luck and that she and Bianca were watching his every win. Bianca herself told him that he was so luck to be battling the "uber hot French representative".

Besides that, there wasn't much fuss.

Enrique stepped onto the dish the same time as Oliver. They were both greeted by fresh screams from the crowds.

The first round provided immediate pressure. Oliver was proving to be a hard opponent. All their beyblades did was grin against each other, either one trying to throw out the other.

"Round one goes to...OLIVER!" boomed the announcer. Cheers erupted from the French side.

Enrique took a step back to catch his breath (as well as his beyblade) and nodded at the swift smile thrown by Oliver at his direction.

"Ready?" he asked. The blonde nodded again.

...and this time, he attacked.

"Round two goes to...ENRIQUE!" the announcer declared, there was a wave of screams from the Italian side.

The grass-haired boy was caught off guard. Enrique mentally jumped for joy when he saw Oliver frowning.

At the third round, the Italian's impatience and desperation were reaching the brink. But he needed to release Amphilyon at exactly. the. right. time.

The hydra reared, creathing the unearthly light only a few privilaged people can see. To his surprise, a unicorn attacked.

Enrique stole a glance at Oliver and saw him shouting commands to his Unicolyon. Resolutely, he returned his focus to Amphilyon.

This was turning out to be a totally different fight.

--

"Damn...that fight was a rotten pizza..." Enrique flopped down on the bench. Oliver had won and was leaning on Johnny for support.

"You didn't tell me you had one too..." he said.

"Had one what?" the Italian asked.

"A bitbeast..." Johnny filled in. "Those who have them are exempted from battling more than twice..."

"That ain't fair..." Enrique protested. "It mean's they'll only judge your performance by the given battle."

"They've changed the rules this year..." Oliver sighed. "They limited the number of fights a bitbeast holder does so they could reduce damage caused by their power. Our battle was chicken compared to others I've seen..." (imagine that? so by the time Bry battled Rei...bitbeast power was already reduced! xP kidding...my fic, my rules)

"They give priority to those who have one all the same." the Scott replied. "We've got better chance of representing the continent in the World Championships...even if we'll have to be a team..."

"So you're securing your win against Spain?" Enrique asked.

"Exactly." Johnny smiled. "I find no need to state the obvious."

The frenchie rolled his eyes. "Now who's an airhead?"

"You''ve battled me..." the blonde analyzed, addressing Oliver. "Who're you battling next?"

"I'm up against Germany..." he replied. "And now you could say I'm worried."

"That means Spain'll end up battling just twice too..." Enrique frowned. "This is confusing...that exception rule really isn't so effective..."

"Actually I'm quite happy I won't be battling Oliver..." Johnny mumbled.

"...and so..." Enrique continued."...the country who losses twice gets kicked out." he concluded.

Oliver patted his head. "Good boy...you got it..." he turned to smile evilly at Johnny. "And since Johnny-boy here is securing his triumph over Spain...We'll be representing Europe as a team..."

"With the German?" the blonde Italian asked.

"Don't rub it in..." Johnny glared at the bright French boy.

--

Italy, France and Scotland had one loss and win each. Germany had two wins and Spain had two losses. Oliver's conclusion seemed true enough; it was easy to see who won.

"As there is a new rule issued by the BBA, each participating country or continent would have a team...no longer a solo blader...but a team to represent in the Championships." began an elderly judge.

"We call to the stage..." said the enthusiastic announcer. "Enrique Giancarlo, Oliver Les Desmond, Johnny McGreggor and Robert Jurgen!"

There was an explosion of cheers and the four went up on stage to shake the elderly judge's hand. "Follow me to the office please." he told them and lead the way.

Enrique was feeling giddy. Oliver was close to tears, Johnny was all smiled and even proper Robert looked happy.

"Your ammo in the Championships!" the announcer declared as the small party ascended the steps, heightening the screams of the spectators.

"Okay boys...you heard the order above..." greeted and Irishman in his forties, probably one of the program heads, as the four teens entered the judges office overlooking the stands. "You're a team now..."

Enrique glanced at Johnny, who was frowning slightly. He smiled.

"Sir Jurgen," said the elderly judge who spoke to the audience earlier. "I'd like you to lead this team, so you are in charge of them..."

Robert nodded curtly.

"We did our preliminaries a bit earlier than the rest of the world." he laughed. "It's because we've been asked to tutor, in a way, the new representatives for Japan."

"Oh..." the German replied mildly. "Sure..." and he rounded on his new team as the judges turned to other matters.

"This is a new set-up..." he told them, throwing an odd look at the huddle of elderly men behind him. "First meeting shall be at my place..."

"Where's that?" Enrique interrupted.

"Go to Germany, say my surname to a random citizen and they'll gladly point you to it..." the purple-haired teen said.

Johnny's eyebrow rose; Oliver said nothing.

"We'll discuss things there..." Robert continued as the judges stopped whispering to stare at them. At the same time, said person turned to them. "May we go sirs?"

"Yes! Yes, perfect!" said a man a bit younger than the elderly judge. "You may go..."

"Let's go eat..." Oliver suggested as the four of them (yes four) filed out the stadium along with fans.

"B-but...we just ate at your restaurant..." Johnny protested as Enrique laughed and Robert smirked.

"I know this adorable little capet—"

"Capet?" Robert frowned.

Oliver pulled out a toothbrush and toothpaste from his coat and brushed his teeth on the spot. Then he went to the washroom to rinse his mouth out.

Johnny wanted to laugh while Enrique just oggled.

"Sorry..." Oliver continued when he returned. "I meant cafe. I know this cafe...let's eat there..."

"What just happened?" Enrique asked Johnny as they set out on the street, since the said cafe was only walking distance.

"That's what Oli does when he says a bad word..." he filled in.

"That was bad?...oh yeah..." Enrique said, realization dawning on him.

"That was like...a French Revolution moment back there..." Robert chuckled darkly.

The four had an enjoyable snack. They got an intro of one another and parted ways with good tidings. (Mainly it was Robert parting from Johnny, Oliver and Enri)

"Hey John, are you going back to Scotland?" Oliver asked as he and the two got in the limo.

The redhead flushed. "I've got plans...I might not go back to Scotland for a while. Robert told us that we'd be meeting in a week right?"

The other two nodded.

"Okay..." Johnny continued. "I've got plans..."

"Hey..." Enrique said suddenly remembering his battle with Spain. "I just remembered something..." he turned to Oliver. "Can people like you crash cars with just one look?"

The frenchie was stunned. "W-what?"

Johnny laughed. "Are you saying Oliver's a geisha or something?"

The green-haired boy shrugged. "Well...let's see." he said and pressed a button to open the sunroof. The three of them emerged out of it.

"There! A Philippine tourist bus!" (padamay!xD) Enrique pointed to the incoming vehicle. Oliver nodded and smiled at the Asian driver who turned his head as the cars crossed paths.

Tires screeched as the bus swerved to avoid slamming into the lamp post. The limo quickly drove away from the scene.

"Bloody hell..." Johnny said in awe. Enrique and Oliver exchanged gleeful looks.

**TBC**

A/N: liked that? we get two weird moments there...more to come...tell me what you think!


	13. Chapter 13

A/N damn, I'm finding typing really hard. I'm working with this ancient laptop and I can't see a thing on the screen...I hope y'all understand this chapter. Sorry for the typographical errors...if there may be any...enjoy!

**My Porcelain Doll **

**_Chapter Thirteen _**

"This is great! I'd never thought I'd actually win this year's preliminaries!" Oliver said excitedly after dropping Johnny of at the hotel he was staying in; he and Enrique were left alone in the car (except for the driver).

"Want to stay at my house tonight?" the frenchie suggested. "I'm awfully alone. The mansion is so big, that's why I spend most of my spare time in my restaurant."

Enrique looked at him. "Oh sure...and then I was thinking for going back to Italy tomorrow."

Oliver looked surprised. "You've got plans? Hey, if your girlfriends miss you, don't let me get in your way..."

"No! No..." Enrique laughed. "I meant that since you're inviting me to see your place I might as well show you mine...I rarely ever get visitors...so I'm out most of the time. It'd be better to share some company."

The grass-haired chef nodded. "Same here..." he broke into a smile. "Thanks Enri, of course I'll come. Besides...I haven't been to Italy for a while."

--

"_Bonsoir Monsieur Les Desmond..._" greeted about forty frenchmaids lined in two neat rows. (reminds me of persocoms...)

"_Bonsoir..." _he returned most politely. "_Mon amis, son apelle Enrique Giancarlo._" he introduced, indicating Enrique and rolling the r most deliciously.

"_Bonsoi Monsieur Giancarlo..."_ the maids chimed and they dispersed, fussing over the guests.

Enrique let out a low whistle. "Woah...your house is like a museum..."

Oliver smiled as he shrugged off his coat. "C'mon! I'll show you my studio..." he grabbed Enrique's hand and led him up their Grand Staircase.

"Studio?" the blonde asked, allowing to be led into a large room on the second floor. Oliver switched on the light and his friend couldn't help but gasp.

"You paint?" he asked him in awe. The chef nodded.

"It's not remarkable..." he replied, watching Enrique walk around the room in wonder examining various sculptures, paintings depicting families going on picnics and breathtaking landscapes.

"These...these are beautiful..." the blonde replied, being careful not to touch anything. "What's that?" he added when he spotted a large blank wall of cloth.

At that, the French boy smiled. "Oh, you'll love this..." he tugged sharply at the edge of the cloth and released it, unfurling a huge glass window made up of only one pane.

"Wow...The Eiffel Tower..." Enrique mumbled.

"I paint during...er...the sparest of my spare time..." Oliver said brightly. He glanced at the Italian who was silhouetted against the bright sunlight pouring from the window. "Do you have something like this?" he asked.

Enrique wheeled around, blinked and blushed. "Hah...It's nothing compared to yours..."

"Don't compare it to mine!" the grass-haired boy seemed scandalized. "My hobby may be different from your hobby. There aren't any grounds for comparison...and stop degrading yourself..." he added sternly.

Enrique hesitated, then smiled as he looked out the window. "I...uh...do gardening..."

"COOL!" the other exploded suddenly and made the blonde jump. "When we go to Rome tomorrow, show me you garden!"

"All right..." he nodded, amused at the Frenchman's reactions.

"I want to show you my kitchen..." Oliver said and once more grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the room, pressing button by the door in the process, shutting down the studio. The door locked itself behind them.

--

"This is every chef's dream..." Enrique remarked.

"It's just a few of my favorite places..." Oliver said casually.

The room was made entirely of steel...well, almost. There were ten rows of glass cabinets with various ingredients from all over the world contained in them. Next to it was a counter holding a ton of cutlery, knives of every use and size and a large variety of cooking pots and pans and the like. Then next to it was a counter reserved for various cooking tools: spatulas, peelers, whisks etc. Then there were world class stoves, grills, ovens, blast chillers, ice cream makers (the big ones)...a bar...all lined up neatly and given their own generous space. There was an immense glass cabinet devoted to wineglasses for every drink that needed special care. Rock glasses lined the bottom row and champagne glasses dominated the top and so on. Then lastly there was a door.

"What's this?" Enrique asked after oggling at the rest of the kitchen with his mouth open.

Oliver smiled. "You drink?"

"Hell yeah..."

He pushed it open and the pair was greeted by the sweet smell of wine. The chef descended the short stairs and Enrique followed.

The Italian took a deep breath. "It's like being back in my cousin's palazzi...she owns a wine company..."

Oliver thought for a moment. "Hn...your cousin? Ah! Giancarlo-Giovanni, right?"

Enrique nodded. "She's the one..."

"I think I have a bottle..." he said and hurried away between the honeycomb cases holding various alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks.

"Damn...you even have vodka..." the blonde said, idly examining a bottle. (Enri: If I knew Tala and the boys back then I'd say "You could even invite the Blitzkrieg over and have a drinking spree!")

"I like thier red wine..." Oliver said when he came back with a dust bottle in his arms. "You in the mood for pasta?" he asked brightly.

"Sure..." Enrique replied and thy ascended the stairs, going back into the kitchen.

--

(Yakitate!Japan cameos up ahead...)

"You don't have a cook?" the blonde Italian asked the green-haired French boy as he made a special herb-laden pasta dough.

"I prefer to do it myself..." came the reply.

Enrique sighed and gazed at the wide range of ingredients.

"I'm a help around the kitchen..." he mentioned thoughtfully. "What can I do?"

Oliver stared at him. "You cook?"

"You aren't the only who cooks in the whole wide world Oli..."

The frenchie laughed. "I know...could you bake a loaf of garlic bread please? It'd go well with the sauce..." he requested with expert air of giving orders.

Enrique nodded and stared bringing down ingredients.

"When did you learn to bake bread?" Oliver asked the blonde as he was kneading the dough.

"My butler had the good grace to introduce me to my relatives I was oblivious to." He stopped a moment to look around for a stone oven among the steel. When his searched proved fruitless he turned back to kneading. "Hey d'you have infared light?"

Oliver smiled. "You're resourceful..." he commented and pointed to a special heated counter with a blue bulb illuminating it. "Continue..."

Enrique smothered the counter with flour and continued his task. "I was about nine...and entering the regionals. When I was going about Italy I was surprised all my relatives stared popping out of everywhere like daises. Papa's sister, Tita Maria, owned this bakeshop. She taught me how to bake all sorts of bread." he smiled reminiscently.

Oliver 'oh'-ed and checked on his spaghetti which had been boiling for sometime before turning back to his sauce which he let simmer for a moment.

"Ei...this is about done..." he said. "Want me to melt butter for that bread?"

"Uh..." Enrique considered his half-kneaded dough. "Sure..."

--

(okay...this is for real...Yakitate!Japan cameos up ahead)

"Have you got Goddess Fingers to go with you Solar Hands?" Oliver asked Enrique a while later, intruding his personal space as the blonde placed his bread in the oven.

"Oliver!" Enrique whined. "Go away!" he whacked him with a hand covered in flour.

The chef looked mocked-hurt, then avenged himself by dumping a cup o the same substance over the Italian's head.

What came next was a mini-flour fight, before Enrique got a bottle of soysauce and held it threateningly over the Oliver's cooling pasta sauce.

"You wouldn't dare..." lavender eyes narrowed menacingly.

"Try me..." summer blue eyes flashed.

--

"_Salopard!_ You're eating that!" was heard by the maids of the household followed by boisterous shouts and screams from the kitchen.

Oliver and Enrique came out of the kitchen, covered top to toe in flour carrying two plates of pasta and a deliciously buttered loaf of garlic bread.

The maids were stationary for a moment before busying themselves with setting the table.

"Do you eat alone all the time?" Enrique asked the French boy as they began their supper.

"When it's a last resort..." Oliver smiled. "Otherwise I eat at my restaurant..."

"Don't you have a butler?" the baffled Italian replied, curious at the chef's solitude. Oliver shook his head.

"So you mean...all the servants here are women?"

"Yeah..." he said after swallowing a bite. "I've got a counter for a butler though. She's my head maid, Marie-Sophie..."

A beautiful modest lady with beautiful strawberry blonde wavy hair, blue-green eyes and in her mid-twenties came forward with military swiftness.

"_Oui monsieur?_" she asked.

Oliver blinked in surprise. "Oh you heard me..." he said and soon waved her away.

"I thought French family ties were...uh...tight, in a sense..." Enrique asked. "How come your papa and mama..." he trailed off.

"I keep in touch with my parents..." the grass-haired boy said a matter-of-factly. "It's just that pére works and stays in Versailles. The restaurant is mine by the way, pére helped me establish it when I was eight. Then he left..."

Enrique smiled softly and ate a big forkful of pasta. "Your mama?"

"Maman?" Oliver repeated, thinking. "Pére says I look like her. Ahahaha...she's a model so she travels a lot, but I get to see her. Maman has a knack of knowing even the most hectic of my schedules. She tends to surprise me when I'm not busy...or when I'm painting."

The Italian nodded, missing his own home already.

"I miss my tulips..." Enrique randomly said after a short pause. "I'll ring my chauffeur to pick us up tomorrow..."

"All right..." Oliver said and ate a slice of bread.

"Hey...don't tell me _your_ chauffeur's a girl too..."

"NO!"

**TBC **

A/N: next stop...Italy! Hope y'all enjoyed! Review!xD


	14. Chapter 14

a/N: hello y'all! waah...our exams are coming up soon, sorry if I wouldn't be able to update as before...but don't y'all worry...because here's another chapter!xD thanks to all those who reviewed...y'all make me happy.x3 ...enjoy! ...about the drinking thing...well, yeah I suppose they know how to drink, France and Italy are known for their drinks anyhow...so I guess they're taught how to drink at a young age...dunno...I'm not European,xD

Disclaimer: (oddly enough, I only disclaim when I feel like it...it that legal?) I don't own anything! ...don't sue me pleeze!...or else I won't update no more...and leave y'all hanging...(pouts) o.O?

**My Porcelain Doll **

**_Chapter Fourteen _**

"Gustav!"

"Enrique!"

Oliver stepped out of the car and smiled at his friend hugging his butler-turned-favourite-uncle-of-sorts.

"How's my young man?" the butler asked, rubbing the blonde boy's back.

"Gustav..." Enrique began. "This is Oliver..." and he dragged the said person over.

The butler bowed politely. "Very pleased to meet you, singor."

Oliver nodded and shook his hand. "Pleased to meet you too."

"Would you like to come inside?"

The Frenchman nodded, humbled by the hospitality.

"Welcome to out small and insignificant abode..." Enrique said somewhat lamely after dispersing the servants who had gathered around to fuss over them.

Oliver whacked him. "Don't say that! Your house is huge!"

Before the Italian could reply, two speeding torpedoes slammed into him.

"ENRIQUE WE MISSED YOU!" Rosette and Bianca squealed in unison.

"Girls, girls!" Enrique struggled against their iron hug and they let go. "This..." he straightened his shirt a bit. "...is Oliver...without a doubt I'm sure you know him..."

"Hi." they both greeted him before taking each of the frenchie's hands and shaking them.

"A-are your girlfriends twins?" the confused chef asked his friend.

"No, we're best friends." Rosette and Bianca filled in.

"I'm from Padua..." said the blonde.

"...and I'm from Tuscany." followed the redhead.

Oliver blinked at this double act and decided he was amused. "You're girlfriends are amusing, Enri..." he voiced out.

"Yeah they are..." the blonde boy replied as he hugged both the girls around the waist.

"Oh, Enri..." Biance turned to him, remembering something. "We came here to tell you that my papa is taking Rosette and I with him on his business trip to Japan. We'll miss you!" and she smothered him with kisses.

"We'll be back in to weeks..." Rosette informed; she'd been talking to Oliver about Tours, her mother's hometown.

Enrique's eyebrow rose. "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow..." they both said with identical sad faces.

"We just dropped by to tell you that..." said Rosette.

"...and to meet Oliver." Bianca giggled.

"We honestly want you to come..." the redhead sighed.

"Oh I'll come with you two to Japan sometime...alone..." Enrique promised and smiled. The girls brightened.

"Okay! See you!" they said and left.

"...woah..." Oliver let out a breath. "They're a truck load...I marvel at how you deal with them." he said.

Enrique shrugged. "You're right. Let's say I'm used to it..." he grinned. "We're alone now...and at least they won't be here when we go to Robert's."

"Oh yeah...Robert's..." the frenchie said absently. There was s sound of onions and garlic being sautéed. "Hey...could I see your kitchen?"

Enrique blinked. "The kitchen? I..." Oliver dragged him to where the smell was coming from.

"It ain't yours..." the blonde said when they came to the traditional-style brick room.

Oliver stared for a minute or two, watching the chefs prepare food and the smoke rising from their pots and pans. He looked at the pasta noodles on the walls, the sauce on the floor and laughed.

"What?" the Italian frowned.

"Nothing..." he replied. "It's just that...your kitchen's so home-y."

Enrique smiled. "Come on, I'll show you around the house..."

--

"See?" You've got a bathroom that costs more than my kitchen..." Oliver said as they left Enrique's infamous golden bathroom.

"Hey, I thought we weren't comparing living spaces?" he replied.

"I'm just reminding you that you've got a remarkable space of your own..." the grass-haired boy shrugged. "You're degrading your villa too much..."

The blonde sighed, walking further up the hall. "This has been my whole world up until I was eight."

The frenchie pushed open a short blue door. "What's this room for?"

Enrique blinked. "Uh...oh wow...it's my old, old bedroom. Gustav cleaned this place up good."

He walked about the virtually empty room as Oliver examined to view.

"Hey I've never noticed this door before..." the blonde said, seeing an even smaller door at the corner of the room.

"That's cool!" the young chef said. "I wonder where it leads to..."

Enirque went down on his hands and knees and crawled through the door. Oliver followed the suit.

"An unused ballroom..." the chef stated, walking around the huge space.

"But...there's no other door..." Enrique replied. "The only way to come here was through the was we came..."

"That sucks..." his friend replied. "It'd make a beautiful ballroom. It's got a nice view..."

"Woah..."

"What is it?" Oliver turned to see his friend staring at the ceiling. He too looked up.

Looming over them was an immense painting. It portrayed a family of three enjoying a picnic in a meadow. The father was a handsome brunette with startling sapphire eyes. His strong-looking arms circled the waist of a strikingly beautiful slim blonde woman with pale storm-grey eyes. With soft smiles adorning their faces, they watched their young son play in the grass. Enrique's eyes widened as he saw a close resemblance of him and the boy. The family was eternally posed, serving as a grim reminder of what should've been had the circumstances been changed.

"Enri, who did that?" Oliver asked breathlessly.

"I..." the Italian walked around the room staring at the painting, looking for the artist's signature. "M-my mama..." he smiled. "She was a painter..."

"Was?"

"Mama died giving birth to me...I've never seen her. Papa says she looks like me..."

Oliver scrutinized the painting. "But isn't the boy in this painting supposed to be you? How did she..."

"It doesn't really look like me does it?" Enrique smiled weakly, looking at the representation of his mother. "It was as if this was mama's life project..."

The grass haired chef strode rapidly around the room, caressing the walls and pillars, occasionally looking up at the ceiling. "It was! This whole ballroom was you mother's life project. She was the one who painted every inch of it..."

Enrique was overwhelmed at the discovery. "It...it's amazing..." he said slowly, settling himself by the bug windows with Oliver.

"Where is your father?" the frenchie asked as both of them faced the sun.

"Papa is away on business..." Enrique said. "He always has been. I've never seen him since I was four. The only recent connection I had with him was when he gave me Amphilyon, and it was by mail too..."

Oliver looked at him thoughtfully and they fell in a comfortable silence.

"Hey...is that your garden?" he asked after a while, looking down.

Enrique followed his gaze. "Uh...you can't exactly call that a garden."

"What would you call it?" Oliver asked him. "A field of flowers?"

"That's my training...space. You see that big patch of grass? You press a button there and the dish come out..." the blonde replied.

He nodded. "Oh all right. Let's go down and see it!"

--

"I am a sucker for beauty..." the green-haired French boy said as they entered the colorful sanctuary Enrique tended.

"At least the gardeners didn't forget to look after them while I was gone..." the Italian mumbled, stroking the petal of a big white rose.

"They're beautiful Enri!" Oliver said softly, crouching low to tenderly examine a pale pink carnation. "Or do I make that sound like an understatement?"

Enrique grinned. "Yeah you do..."

The young chef smirked and moved amongst the flowers.

"Bring me here again one day; I'll bring me easel along and paint all of this..." requested Oliver.

"You're welcome anytime," the blonde Italian replied, picking up a fallen rosebud and handing it to the other boy for him to keep.

It was when they stayed in Italy that Oliver's and Enrique's friendship deepened.

**TBC **

A/N: wahoo! I liked the ending...hope you did too...as well as the rest of the chapter. Reveiw y'all!

...to the members of the Bundle a la Shticksh..._kung naaalala ninyo yung nasa clearbook ko na drowing ni Oliver at Enrique na nasa hardin...ayun yon. Dito siya galing, sa chapter na ito..._Haha...I quoted my own story..._yabang noh?_xD


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: whew! I'm glad I'm still alive...here's another one for y'all! enjoy...

**My Porcelain Doll **

**_Chapter Fifteen _**

"Wow Johnny, you're here early..." Oliver greeted the Scott who had answered the iron-wrought gates of Robert's castle.

"Robert's house reminds me of a prison..." Enrique remarked. "It's complete with spotlights, towers and battlements!"

"Battlements aren't a part of a prison..." Robert poofed out of somewhere behind Johnny. "And you'll be pleasantly surprised that the interior is as inhabitable and accommodating as any other mansion."

"I second to that!" Johnny exclaimed happily as he dragged Oliver and Enrique inside. "This place is carpeted!" he semi-squealed. "You can tour the whole castle in socks!"

Robert sweatdropped. "That fact I was made accustomed to twice too many..."

"How long have you been here?" Oliver asked Johnny as he and Enrique kicked off their shoes, causing Robert to roll his eyes and move away, ordering servants about.

"Since Tuesday..." Johnny shrugged. The frenchie raised an eyebrow.

"Tuesday?" he replied. "That's when Enri and I went to Italy..."

"You two went to Italy?" he mocked-oggled, getting revenge from their teasing.

"We took a peek at each others houses," Oliver said casually.

"What about you?" Enrique mildly accused. "What've you been doing here since Tuesday?"

"Playing chess..." Johnny smiled. That wasn't a lie at all; the Scott and the German did nothing but play chess for four days. And each time, Johnny lost.

"He's pretty good actually," Robert said, re-entering the scene carrying a tray. "But...he can't beat me..."

"I will some day!" Johnny said challengingly as Oliver and Enrique laughed.

--

They settled down to tea, discussing team matters, occasionally being opposed by a non-cooperative Johnny.

"I'm game for armor, but matching names for our beyblades!" the redhead said. "There's no way I'm changing Salamalyon to...whatever!"

"I'd have to change mine too you know..." Robert said in a low tone.

"You don't have to..." Oliver said. "Because you can't. I'm not changing Unicolyon's name. And you won't get me to reach a compromise. I'm French...I don't DO compromises..."

"I'm not changing Amphilyon either..." Enrique added.

Robert blinked. "Well...we don't need to change anything after all...our bitbeasts' names already DO match..."

"We need a team name!" Oliver piped up.

"What!" Johnny whined.

"The carpet is magenta..." Enrique said absently.

"Of course!" Robert declared, slamming Enrique's back. "What about...The Majentics?" he said dramatically.

The other three stared at him and burst into laughter.

"Morons sound better..." Johnny said.

"No!" Oliver bounced up and down. "Robert has a nice start...just change a letter!"

This was met by an unbelievably stupid silence.

"Maladies?"

"What the hell? Team Maladies?"

"Guys! Shut up! SHUT UP!" Oliver was laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

"Majestics!" he choked out and lapsed into silent giggles.

Robert nodded. "That not bad...not bad at all..."

"How on earth could you think of team Maladies?" Johnny asked Enrique.

"I don't know..." the Italian said naively.

Oliver's laughter doubled.

And there you have it...the Majestics.

**TBC **

A/N: next up! ...I don't recall... anyway, watch out for the next chapter! Review y'all! enjoy!xD


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: mwahahaha! here's another installment of MPD for y'all to enjoy!xD

…a note for the public…watch out for Yakitate!Japan cameos…

**My Porcelain Doll **

**_Chapter Sixteen _**

Enrique's life as a Majestic kept him too busy to think of anything else. Nevertheless, he was happier than he had ever been in his entire life. He had the best friends one could ask for. The life shut up in closed walls and following strict rule were seemingly a part of myth. It was like it never happened. Enrique Giancarlo was as happy as any child his age.

--

"Yo Oli, Robert's rounding us up again. He says the BBA Regulations Officers called him up. They said that the reason we had our preliminaries early is that so we could tutor the new Japanese representatives…"

"New?" asked the Frenchman from the other line. "What happened to the old ones?"

"There weren't any old ones to begin with…" replied the Scott. "And besides, only one of them is a true Jap…"

"What are the rest? Drop-outs?"

"No…their team's the type that got qualifications is less than a year. Rob's guessing they lack experience and control…"

"Hn. Give them credit, Johnny…they became instant representatives…" Oliver said.

The voice on the other line seemed convinced. "Whatever Les Desmond, could you just tell Enrique?"

"Can't…he's in Japan with his girlfriends…"

"Ah…what a great time to go to Japan…" Johnny said sarcastically.

"Don't worry…he called me, he says he's coming back soon…"

"He'd better…" the Scott snarled. "There's no way I'll be stuck in Jurgen's house alone for more than eight days…"

"Sure, because you might not be able to get your hands off him…"

"Shut up Oliver…"

"Au revoir Johnny…"

--

"I am sick of bread…" Bianca said as Rosette, Enrique and she strolled around the Coliseum. It's been a day since they came back from their vacation.

"Hey, you have to admit, their bread was good…" Enrique said.

"It's exactly why we're sick of eating any other bread…" Rosette filled in.

"Hey Enrique, Roberts wants us in his castle pronto. We'll be tutoring the Japanese representatives…" an eerily familiar voice broke in their conversation.

Enrique let out a yell, totally NOT expecting his best friend to appear out of nowhere like how he usually did and tell him that. He wheeled around to face the French boy, ignoring the clueless looks on his girlfriends faces.

"Oliver don't DO that!"

The addressed shrugged. "Just come ON!"

'Ah what the hell…" the Italian said and turned to Rosette and Bianca, kissing them both on their cheeks. "See you two…"

"Ciao Enri," and they left.

"Did you say pronto?" Enrique asked Oliver, as the pair headed for the blonde's palazzi.

"Pronto and discreetly…" the chef said. "You wouldn't want to disturb them, those two. Johnny's finally opening up to Robert and vice versa. Right now is a crucial time for them…"

The Italian's eyebrow rose. "All right, so where's your blimp?"

"At your place…" Oliver smiled and Enrique rolled his eyes.

"Great…you know I never liked going through the roof…"

--

The playboy and the snob quietly descended the tallest tower. They had decided it was best not to use the front gates on Oliver's advice. The pair reached the topmost floor of the Jurgen Castle and warily trekked their way to the sitting room seven floors bellow.

But it looked like their calculations were wrong. Instead of Johnny and Robert seeking privacy on the lower stories, they decided to go up…and so…

Suddenly, the frenchie and the blondie heard a body slam against a hollow wooden door and moans issue form the same direction.

Oliver and Enrique exchanged slightly uneasy looks before resuming their way downward in a quicker pace.

Unfortunately, the seventh floor was quite smaller than the rest of the structure and diverting their route didn't prevent them from seeing Robert and Johnny wound tightly in each other's arms, shoving their tongues down each other's throats.

**TBC **

A/N: review!xD …those who dun dig RobJohn, you can check out my OliJohn! It's entitled The Pharaoh's Daughter


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: hey y'all! Sorry if my update took too long…this chapter was lengthy and I could find time to type it…so anyway…here it is! Enjoy!xD

Warning: This is a very WEIRD chapter and contains a number of Yakitate!Japan cameos. If 'weird' is your middle name…well…ah heck, read it! All of you!xD

**My Porcelain Doll **

**_Chapter Seventeen_ **

"I don't want to train today! I simply don't!" Oliver folded his arms across his chest and flopped on the large couch of Robert's living room. "Tyson won last year's championships fair and square. Boris is in jail and the Demolition Boys are fine! Why does Robert need to push us like this!"

Enrique groaned, flopping too on the couch beside him. "The next European preliminaries are AGES away…"

"My point exactly…" The frenchie replied.

"We'll be playing again in two months…" Robert informed them curtly as he passed by. "Get your asses off the couch and in the dungeons…"

"Yes ma'am…" the pair said and stood up, then sat down again as soon as the German disappeared.

"Oh what are we going to do?" Oliver asked. Enrique looked at him and thought for a moment.

"Let's bake bread…" he said with a mischievous smile.

The chef looked at his incredulously. "What?"

"Come on!" The Italian jumped up and grabbed his arm. "This bread shall be our perfect escape! Let's go to the forge…"

"Robert has a forge?" the grass-haired boy asked as they left the modern rooms of the castle and entered the untouched 16th century hallways.

"What ARE you looking for?" Oliver asked as they arrived at the said forge. "How is baking bread going to be our perfect escape?"

"Perfect!" Enrique exclaimed, not noticing his companion's questions. "A cement mixer!" He pointed to a very modern machine, quite out of place in the medieval setting.

"You don't have cement…" the greenette mumbled, but withdrew what he said as he saw two heaps of sacks, one of which Enrique was already opening and pouring a small amount of into the mixer.

"Hey…could you get two buckets of water?" he asked Oliver, indicating an ancient well behind him.

"Oh sure…" the frenchie replied, getting to work. "But won't that be a tad bit too much?"

"No…" the blonde said, fishing out a fairly medium sized sack from wherever in his clothing. "I've still got my own stash to add…"

"And what is that?" the chef smirked.

"Magic powder…"

"Oh get real…"

--

The end result was a sort of cement board about two inches thick and just the right size for any oven. Oliver and Enrique smiled at their own handiwork.

"This material looks familiar…" the chef replied. "It's like the stone used to build those traditional stone ovens…but different…"

The Italian smiled. "I've always wanted my own betalite board…"

"Well…let's wash up and get baking…" Oliver declared. "Wait…what ARE we baking?" he asked.

"Betalite bread…" Enrique said as they left the forge. "Hence the board…"

His companion blinked. "All right, I'm stumped. What on earth is that?"

The blonde shrugged. "Your typical _pan de pugon_ with a twist…" he smiled mischievously yet again and tapped the cement board.

"Oh…the recipe for that is easy and tasty too!" the chef bounced. "You should've been there when Robert first ate it…he totally flipped!"

"Where was I?" Enri asked, not seeming to recall such a memory.

"You were in Japan with your girlfriends…"

They reached the kitchen and Enrique locked all the doors.

"So the servants won't come in…" he answered Oliver's raised eyebrow.

"It's not like we're doing anything illegal…" the greenette replied.

Enrique considered him for a moment. "We're ditching training right? Then nobody should know that we're here…"

Oliver shrugged. "Works for me…"

The dough was made and panned; our blonde Italian fixed his betalite board in the oven and the bread was already baking. A most delicious smell circulated the closed room and greeted the happily chatting pair sitting on the counter.

"Wow…that's incredible!" Oliver remarked as he sniffed the air. "What is in that board?"

"It's a metalloid which multiplies infrared heat…and a jumble of other chemistry stuff I didn't bother to remember…" Enrique replied.

"Who taught you this?" the pro chef asked as the timer ting-ed and he took out the bread.

"My girls and I went to Japan, right? We met this weird bunch of fantastic bakers…all we ended up doing there was eat bread…but damn the bread was good." the blonde replied reminiscently. "DON'T EAT IT YET!"

Oli lowered his bun for he was about to take a bite. "What?"

Enrique got his own bun from the pan and returned the rest to the oven. "Let's just put this back to keep it warm…"

"What for?" the greenette asked. "We're eating bread; it's not like…" he trailed off at the realization. "There was something in that board than spiked the bread! We're going to die!"

Enrique shut the oven door. "Nobody dies of eating bread, Oliver…" he sighed when the French boy hesitated. "Look, let's eat it together okay?"

That consoled him. "Nobody dies of eating bread? I'll trust you with that…"

"You can count on it…" The Italian nodded and they held hands, just in case they'd get blown away or something.

And so with the buns in their free hands and their determined, uneasy gazes on each other's faces, Oliver and Enrique both took a bite on the enchanted bread on the count of three.

--

_I am ready to die. It is sad for I am merely fifteen. I don't mind because I have tasted the most delicious bread that man could ever bake. In my short career as a chef, this is my biggest success; and no others could top it. I have no reason to go on living…_

--

"Where are they?" Johnny asked Robert. The pair was waiting in the dungeons and had a bit of foreplay given their bit of privacy. But the two youngest members of their team were taking a tad bit too long.

"They're in a tight spot." Robert answered darkly. "They won't be able to worm their way out of this one."

They ascended the stairs to look for them.

After a few minutes…

"They're nowhere!" Robert said astounded, having just received a report from all his servants that searched the castle.

"John, could you check the other rooms? I'll just go to the underground." he told his lover.

"Underground?" the Scott asked.

"It's where the forge is…Enri knows that place, so they might be down there…" the purple-haired teen filled in.

"How come he knows you have a forge?" Johnny asked suspiciously.

"We repair you guys' armor…"

"Oh…"

They separated ways and met again some thirty minutes later; Robert was panting, having just run up the stairs.

"They've used the cement mixer!" he said when he saw Johnny.

"The kitchen's locked!" the other replied.

"Bingo.."

The German's cook handed him the keys to the kitchen, explaining that nobody could get in since three hours ago.

"Three hours ago?" Johnny ogled as the cook left.

Robert shrugged and opened the door.

"Johnny? Johnny!"

"…oh my God…"

--

"Where are we?" Oliver asked Enrique. The two were standing in the middle of a large meadow littered with shady trees and bushes of flowers and fruits. To their left was a lake with waters of the clearest kind. And to the far right were green towering mountains with snow-white tops.

"This ain't the place where I went before…" the Italian muttered.

"Where are we supposed to be?" the frenchie then said.

"It's a sort of pub in which you stay in first while angels decide whether you're going to die altogether…"

"But…we aren't there…" the green-haired chef said smiling before dragging him to the lake.

"It's a beautiful here…" Enrique remarked as he looked around, failing to notice Oliver shrug off his trench coat, roll up his sleeves and pant legs, kick off his shoes and socks and wade in the water of the lake…until a large sprinkle of ice cold substance splashed his cheek.

He wheeled around and immediately blushed, but then shook if off, removing his jacket, rolling his sleeves before too wading in the water.

"Oli…" the blonde warned. The frenchie giggled and soon screamed when he got soaked.

The pair tackled each other in the lake, getting wet enough to call it swimming. Their roughhousing gave Enrique the opportunity to contemplate Oliver more and sort out his feelings as well as bond with the boy and have fun.

They dried themselves off by chasing butterflies under the sun and smelling flowers in the meadow.

They rolled around a lot in the grass, feeling very much like kids. There was one point when Oliver pinned Enri to the ground; both were panting yet smiling. Their faces were inches apart and the Italian found himself wanting to kiss him…but then the greenette pulled him up and they both ran down a steep hill.

"Enri, why are there sunsets in this place between heaven and earth?" Oliver asked as they both lay on the grass watching the breathtaking array of colors emanating from the horizon, signaling the set of sun.

The blonde thought for a moment, before replying, "So that people wouldn't forget how beautiful they are even when they're gone…"

…

"I'm pooped…" the frenchie said after a pause and Enrique smirked.

"But damn this is so much better than training," he countered, looking at Oliver for affirmation but to his surprise, the young chef was asleep.

Enrique smiled tenderly and rolled over, rubbing the boy's shoulder gently.

"Oli?" he cooed. But the other boy only cuddled closer to him in response.

It was then when Enrique knew what he really felt.

…and that presented problems.

--

Johnny was trying his best not to cry. He was accessing the security camera in the kitchen by cable and Robert's laptop. The two couldn't bring themselves to the leave the cooking area nor call an ambulance nor tell another soul. They just couldn't believe that Oliver and Enrique were dead…

Video footage was playing over and over on the laptop's monitor.

"They just ate bread Robert! Nobody dies of eating bread!" the Scott told him for the umpteenth time.

"I know…" Robert answered, voice cracking as he half-heartedly examined the bodies again.

Tears fell from deep blue-violet eyes as Johnny watched how the Frenchman and Italian were chatting happily and baking bread, how they held hands before eating the buns, how they seemingly fainted after taking a bite…and that being the last thing they'd ever do.

Robert hugged the redhead, comforting them both as they yet AGAIN watched the last moments of their friends.

"John…Let's stop this…Let's face it…" the German sighed.

"NO!"

"Enrique?"

The two elders immediately turned to the direction of the voice. Oliver was groggily 'waking up' holding the bread bun in one hand and Enrique's in the other. The blonde, in response, squeezed the chef's hand, causing the boy to yelp and slip in spilt flour, resulting in Enrique catching him.

Johnny stared before coming to and hugging them tightly, then without another word, he moved away to keep the laptop.

It was then when the two youngest Majestics took in what was happening and they were unable to speak at the expression on their team mates' faces.

"Don't ever do that again…" Robert said, sniffing a bit and clearing his throat.

"Sorry…" Oliver said sheepishly. "We didn't want to train today…"

"We were going to tell you we were calling it off…" Johnny answered. "But then you died…"

"Y'know you should try it…" Enrique suggested out of the blue and took out the bread pan from the oven.

"Hey…It's still warm…" Oliver commented. "Good idea keeping it in the oven…" he handed a bun to a clueless Rob and Johnny. "Try it."

"Try what?" the redhead asked. "Dying?"

"Nobody dies of eating bread…" Enrique smiled. "Besides, the experience'll grant you limitless shag time in a top quality environment with the most secluded privacy."

Robert and Johnny looked at each other, considering the offer.

"I guess you two've been stressed all day, so you deserve a break." the French boy added. "Plus you can have post-shag moments if you eat the bread on that couch…" he pointed to the large couch in the living room.

"What'll you two do?" the German asked them, still concerned for their welfare.

"Don't worry…" the chef reassured. "A three-course supper shall be waiting by the time you come to."

Enrique looked at him then nodded at Robert and Johnny. "What he said…"

The Scott smiled. "I'll leave you two to it…"

And the couple went to the living room and died. Oliver and Enrique did a high five.

**TBC**

A/N: was it too weird? hn…I don't think anything's too weird…anyway, tell me what y'all think! Enjoy!xD Ciao!


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: I'm posting Chapter 18 to make up for the time I took in posting Chapter 17…hehe…so read and review y'all! Enjoy!xD

**My Porcelain Doll **

**_Chapter Eighteen_ **

"Oliver? Could you come over here to the palazzo? I've got a problem…"

"Well sure…expect me this afternoon…"

The French boy was worried. Normally when Enrique would call on his cellphone, the blonde would just rattle about whatever he was resentful for and get over it.

Today seemed different.

--

"What's wrong?" the grass-haired chef asked his best friend as they strolled the flower-filled garden.

"It's…It's complicated." Enrique began with some uncertainty. "And I feel guilty…"

Oliver looked at him without responding, allowing him to continue.

"Er…well recently I've been feeling less and less for my girlfriends. I suppose they think I'm cheating on them. I pity them because they don't know the truth…and I'm not telling them that's why I feel guilty."

The Frenchman nodded. "And what is this 'truth' that you say?"

Enrique stopped walking and turned to look at him. "I'm gay."

Oli blinked. "Well welcome to the other side, Enri. About the telling Rosette and Bianca bit. I bet they won't flip as much as they would if you would tell them you were cheating on them. So just inform them…"

"It's kind of weird to know that your boyfriend is gay…" Enrique pointed out but the greenette dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

"They're women," he said. "They'll understand."

"That's exactly it." the blonde retorted. "They're women. They won't understand…"

"Oh don't underestimate their capacity to comprehend…" Oliver said lightly as they entered the sunroom to have lemonade and a cheesecake. "Tell them…"

The Italian sighed. "Oh all right…some day during a time…" then he hesitated for another reason. "Hang on…I need to pass liquid…"

The frenchie giggled but nodded anyway and as soon as his friend was gone he fished out his mobile and dialed a number.

"_Oui. Bonjour Rosette…_"

--

Bianca and Rosette were strolling at The Plaza. The blonde was in a bad mood.

"He doesn't love us anymore! We're history!" she said as Rosette answered a call.

"Well?" Bianca ranted on. "Is he dumping us? Are we going to revolt?"

"Be calm Bi…" the redhead said, ending her call (well that was fast…). "It's none of that…"

"Then why is he acting like this?" Bianca was on the verge of tears.

Rosette couldn't help but smile softly as she comforted her best friend. "He's…gay."

Bianca blinked and her tone changed. "Oh…is that the case?"

The redhead nodded. "It was Oliver who called—" the blonde raised an eyebrow and Tuscan rolled her eyes.

"We correspond Bi…" she said. "He told me that Enrique was…out of the closet."

Bianca was looking at her with mildly pertreubued eyes.

"What?" Rosette asked.

"Who is it?" the other whispered.

"Who's who?" the redhead returned, disturbed by the blonde's sudden change of mood.

"Who does Enrique like?" Bianca asked with the air of a professional gossiper.

Rosette blushed modestly. "That I do not know, but I have a hunch…"

--

"Woah Enri…what made you convert?" Johnny asked as he, Enrique and Robert were at the living room waiting for Oliver to call them for supper.

"Or rather…who?" asked the ever observant German.

The Italian frowned and stared at the kitchen, then leaned closer to the other two. "I have fallen…" he said in a low voice..

Robert laughed and Johnny beamed.

"That's great!" said the redhead.

"You said he was a hard catch…" Enrique replied, fearing unrequited love.

"He won't be…" the Scott replied. "The way I see it…he's in love with you too."

"Just be frank," Robert added. "Don't change for him. People like other people for being just the way they are."

"Besides, you know him more than I do now…" Johnny said with a great big smile. "So, when's the wedding?"

Enrique whacked him. "Believe it or not, I'm not as randy as you two."

"You know you want him…" the feisty redhead sang as his lover laughed, earning them both more whacks from the embarrassed Italian.

Okay…so Robert and Johnny knew that he loved Oliver already. Now to break-up with his girlfriends.

--

Enrique was lounging casually on the big couch in his living room when Gustav came in ushering bashful-looking Rosette and Bianca.

The Italian immediately sat up and the butler left them alone.

"Alo Enri, you wanted to talk to us?" Bianca asked.

"Er, yeah…" the boy tried to smile, then pointed to two equally big couches. "Do sit, this is awfully weird."

The pair obeyed, feeling as if the whole thing was like some kind of job interview.

"Girls…" Enri began; the redhead and the blonde looked at him expectantly. He took a deep breath. "I'm gay…"

At that point Gustav came in with refreshments and the young Italian was momentarily terrified. Whether the butler heard the confession or not, he didn't show it. However, just before leaving the room, the butler stopped for a split second, thinking about what the boy said and who might have possibly bent him. If Gustav's hunch was correct, then his godson was in safe hands.

Enrique sighed as the man left, he was sure that he had heard he was gay.

"So…" Rosette said, interrupting his thoughts. "You're breaking up with us?"

The blonde boy smiled weakly and nodded. Bianca and Rosette exchanged wistful glances.

Enrique stood up and gathered the two best friends in a tight, well-meant hug. "Thanks for understanding. You two deserve someone else better than me…"

"But you'll be our best, Enrique…" Bianca replied as they let go.

"Good luck," Rosette added as they turned to leave.

The Roman just nodded and waved goodbye. Bianca stole one last look; she couldn't stop herself from running back and embracing Enrique one last time before a teary Rosette dragged her away.

The huge double oak doors closed behind them.

Enrique wasn't stupid. He knew what Oliver did. And he was very grateful to the boy.

**TBC**

A/N: next up…Enrique has a nightmare! It's the introduction to some characters in G-rev…especially the Barthez Battalion and their wrinkly coach! …anyhow, review and enjoy!xD Ciao!


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: I hope that last chapter didn't confuse y'all…because here's another weird chapter!xD Well…not exactly, but it's quite confusing so read carefully! No…the computer will not explode…but your heads might! Just kidding!… (that was totally random…xP…must be Shake's Fest stress…boo) anyhow…enjoy!xD

…just to give an overview, in this chapter, Enri gets a nightmare involving the next European preliminaries…(confusing timelines, ne? Ask me about that when y'all review)

**My Porcelain Doll **

**_Chapter Nineteen_**

"_And if you lose?"_

"_We give up our lives…" Robert had confidence as he said that. He totally had the liscense. After all, the Majestics were unbeatable…why would these new rookies present a challenge? They were just making a big mistake. By 'they' meaning the four newbies and their stupid coach._

_The team faced the earlier mentioned rookies who were wearing dark hoods. The Majestics couldn't see their faces. A fifth, far taller hooded figure, whom Robert deduced as the said coach was hidden in the shadows, laughing softly, having been satisfied by the German's answer._

"_That's a deal…" said the fifth hooded figure and they all went out onto the arena._

_Enrique was benching for the match and he had suspicions about the team that they were battling. The coach's handling of them eerily reminded him of Boris and his reign over the Demolition Boys. The blonde Italian feared greatly for the welfare of his teammates._

_To his horror, those beyblading monsters crushed Robert, Johnny and Oliver one by one. He was unable to help. Their fate was sealed._

_Rocky walls rose around them, hiding the cheering fans, turning grim 'reality' into an even worse hell. The platform with the dish started to rise; Enrique hurried up to join his team. He gripped Oliver's shoulders to save him from falling off the plateau. He felt the French boy shaking, for they both knew what was in store. _

_When the plateau stopped rising, the Majestics saw the five hooded figures again. The tallest one was laughing maniacally and flames suddenly shot up from all around them. Enrique and Oliver looked down to take it where they really were._

_It seemed that there was another platform below theirs, but the distance was alarming! Anyone who fell over from where the snob and the playboy were standing would be killed instantaneously. There was a winding staircase bridging the huge gap, yet besides these two bits of land, the rest was hot flowing molten lava._

"_Enri, I'm scared." Oliver said calmly, or at least he tried to as he turned away from the dizzying view. _

"_Oliver…" was all the blonde could reply as they held each other's hands for moral support before a booming sound resonated within the cave-like structure. _

"_A deal is a deal Jurgen…" said the fifth hooded figure. _

_Johnny stood frozen in his spot. Fear was etched clearly in his features._

"_R-robert?" he addressed his lover softly. The German's hand shot out for the redhead to grip tightly. This wasn't about the competition anymore. It was about life…love._

"_Oh no dearies…" said the tall figure. "We aren't having any of that. You all promised me your lives. And your precious team captain…" a devilish smile was seen under the hood as he addressed Johnny. "…shall see you all die…"_

_But neither of them was listening._

"_Don't let go Rob…please don't leave me…" the Scott was pleading as he never did before._

_The purple-haired man was showing a large amount of emotion. He hugged his lover possessively. "I won't. I won't. I promise I won't."_

_Oliver and Enrique watched terrified from the edge of the plateau as a large rock hand burst from the wall and wrenched Johnny away from Robert's hold, slamming him shut in a glass box filled with holes, which was jutting out from another portion of wall. _

"_ROBERT! ROBERT!" It's prisoners started screaming out of panic. "ROBERT!" Screams turned into sobs as he thrust his arm out of a hole in a vain attempt to try and reach their team captain's outstretched hand. _

"_JOHNNY! JOHNNY!" Robert tried to run after him, hoping his hand would get there first when the four shorter hooded figures held him back. Nevertheless, the German struggled in their tight grip. His conversation with Johnny was the bloodcurdling screams of each other's names._

_The power and desperation in their voices made Oliver cry. He sobbed into Enrique's shoulder as the Italian tried his best not to do the same but to watch. The weight in his chest was past the point of making him cry anyway._

_The two elder Majestics screamed simultaneously as spikes appeared in the holes at the sides of the glass cage, which, in turn, started closing in. The Scott's frantic reaching increased as the sharp edges came closer._

"_JOHNNY!" Robert screamed as he was bound and chained by the four hooded figures._

"_ROBERT! ROBERT!" his lover kept calling; he was slowly disappearing from view. "ROB--!"_

_Oliver and Enrique gasped. Tears finally fell from their team captain's wine-red eyes as the hand sticking out slowly lost energy and lay limp._

_The two younger Majestics sank to their knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Robert hung his head and struggled weakly in his confines. _

"_Who's next?" the tall hooded figure asked slyly._

_Oliver's body shook violently beside Enrique. The blonde looked at the greenette and saw his terrified expression, which drove him to more tears._

"_Oliver…" he whispered as he hugged the other boy, who shook his head, moving his mouth in silent protest._

"_Don't…" Oliver managed to choke out. He let out a dry sob as a couple of the four shorter hooded figures pried the two apart. _

_"Oliver!" the Italian called as the Frenchman's captors veered dangerously close to the edge. "OLIVER!"_

_Robert raised his head, just in time to inadvertently witness another death of his teammate. _

_The grass-haired boy screamed as he was thrown off the tall plateau._

_Enrique stood up and dove down the stairs, clinging to the hope of catching Oliver before he hit the ground. Robert's chains became strained as he tried to stand. _

_Above the whoosh of flames and the noisy flow of lava, they all heard a brilliant crash of breaking porcelain._

_Enrique stumbled at the last 100 steps and fell into a pile of broken glass, scratching and wounding his face, arms and legs._

"_NO!" the blonde yelled, gathering as much glass as he could, mixing tears with blood. "OLIVER!"_

"_Give up your blade!" the tall hooded figure was bellowing to the bound German as he was whipped a number of times._

_A battered Griffolyon lay beside his beside his bleeding knee, seemingly loyal and supportive._

"_YOU WON'T MAKE ME!" Robert screamed; Johnny and Oliver's deaths destroyed his ability to think rationally._

_Enrique shook with the force of his sobs and the terror of his team captain's protests. IN between these, the elder Majestic was still yelling out Johnny's name._

"_Hey we got a live one!" said a short hooded figure, noticing the blonde. _

"_Splendid!" said called the tall hooded figure. "Bring him up…he shall be the last for Jurgen to see…"_

_The Italian cried and tried to shield the broken porcelain that was once Oliver from the hellish hooded figures. _

"_No please don't touch him…" he pleaded as he was taken away from them and was hoisted onto a kind of contraption in the wall. The blonde was chained to it like Andromeda on her rock and raised up to the taller plateau, so that Robert could see._

"_Enrique…" the German said as he saw his last living teammate get slaughtered._

"_Robert!" Enrique was crying. "They killed Oliver! They killed him!"_

_The two remaining Majestics never broke eye contact, hence failing to notice the tall hooded figure order his minions to conjure a huge axe._

"_Miguel…" said the coach. "My best player…do the honors…"_

_It was then that the purple-haired man knew the blonde was going to die. And he was unable to answer his last question, which was…_

"_Robert?"_

_The last thing that Enrique saw was the blade of the axe coming toward him with much speed._

--

"OLIVER!"

"ENRIQUE!"

The two bolted out of the sheets and collided.

"Mon Dieux! What's wrong?" the Frenchman asked as he had no idea why he was hugging and comforting a crying Enrique.

The blonde said nothing and gripped Oliver's shirt tightly, sobbing for all his worth.

The two shared a bedroom, see. Robert had the brilliant idea of making the team sleep in pairs to 'save electricity'. Hence, Oliver and Enrique slept in the same bed.

"Oh Enri…" said the green-haired boy. "You're awake. I'm here, don't worry…"

But the Italian would not be calmed. Oliver felt Enrique's grip on him tighten and his sobs worsen as he had said the words 'I'm here'.

"It's just a dream—"

At that moment, the door flew open with a bang, revealing haggard looking Robert and Johnny.

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH OLIVER?" The Scott demanded. His German lover was panting, both of them having run up to see what the problem was.

The chef blinked; Enrique didn't seem to notice anything.

"Nothing's wrong with me…" he replied with a mild tone and silently indicated Enrique.

Robert 'oh'-ed and the pair approached the bed. The crying blonde sensed the added presence and unwillingly loosened his grip on Oliver's shirt.

"Damn you look sick…" Johnny said quietly and rubbed the Italian's back. 'What happened?"

Puffy blue eyes scrutinized him for a moment before shifting his position to re-hug Oliver more properly, this time, burying his face in the other boy's neck. The lean frame shook slightly with sobs.

"I think he's had a nightmare…" the clueless frenchie tried to fill in.

Robert raised an eyebrow. "Why the reaction?"

"I dreamt you all died…" came the muffled reply, effectively silencing the spacious room. "I saw every bit of gory detail…"

"Would it bother you too much if we asked you to recall it?" Oliver asked softly as the two elder bladers climbed onto the bed.

Enri replied with a snotty sniff and pulled away from the hug, his face was fairly dry.

"It was the European preliminaries—" he began with a shaky voice.

"This coming Preliminaries? Tomorrow?" Robert asked, bewildered.

The Italian nodded vigorously. "Our team and a new one came up as the top players. Robert and the other team's coach made a deal to give up the lives of the captain and the members if ever their teams lost."

He gulped before continuing. "We lost…" He paused looking like he was unable to go on. His three listeners were expecting the worst.

"Johnny died first…" the blonde said quite indifferently. "He got impaled by spikes after he was caged in glass."

"Y-you play too much video games…" said a pale Scott, who had a mental image.

Enrique frowned at him. "I _don't _play video games…" he said and Oliver snorted.

"You died next…" the blonde lightly told Robert. "Well technically you didn't. But the coach's team chained you and whipped you, demanding that you give up Griffolyon…"

"They won't make me…" The German replied, trying to empathize with his teammate.

"That's exactly what you said…" Enrique told him, mildly surprised. Then he turned to Oliver, blue eyes glazing over with unshed tears. The greenette, in turn, looked as his best friend in concern, seeing him at the verge of crying once more.

"H-how did I die?" he asked when the Italian couldn't speak.

"…Y-you…" the other boy was unable to look into the piercing lavender gaze. "They threw you over the cliff we were standing on and you broke into a thousand pieces of porcelain…" he said hastily, turning away as he imparted the information.

"You say you saw everything?" Johnny asked kindly.

"I was beheaded…then I woke up." Enrique replied and took a deep breath before jumping out of bed. "Let's have breakfast. This means nothing more to me…"

Robert was torn between congratulating him for his attitude and having concern for his welfare. The redhead seemed unnerved. Oliver however, was staring at Enrique with an odd expression on his face.

--

"Enrique, I hope what happened this morning wouldn't affect your performance?" Robert asked quietly that afternoon as the Majestics had their last training session before the big day.

The Italian looked at him before nodding. "Don't worry Rob, it won't. I'll just be on my guard all the same."

The German nodded and left, then when he was out of hearing range, Enrique turned to Oliver and said, "We're going to lose…" with a miserable tone.

The French boy sighed. "That's exactly the attitude Robert wouldn't like…he'd kill you when he hears you…"

"It was so vivid! It seemed so real!" he argued under his breath. Oliver made a wild gesture.

"Drop it, 'Rique…just drop it."

The blonde stopped their match and approached their team captain.

"Let me bench…" he requested.

The taller teen blinked. "I was going to let Oliver bench—"

"Let him play." Enrique said authoritatively. "Just let me bench."

"All right…" said Robert, shrugging and giving him the laptop.

"Thank you…" replied the blonde as he took the computer and returned to his pseudo-battle with Oliver.

"What did you do?" the greenette asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm benching…"

"Coward…"

Enrique considered him for a moment. "Just making sure that our opponents don't cheat…"

"Or you're making sure we don't die…" Oliver countered.

"Why are _you_ bitter? Shouldn't I be the one bitter?"

"This issue is getting into your head."

"It's not."

"Oi!" Johnny called. "Less talk. More practice!"

The Frenchman scowled. "Robert's rubbing off him…"

Enrique said nothing and re-attached Amphilyon to her shooter.

…

Gut feel is always right.

**TBC**

A/N: damn…it took me the whole day to type this…I was typing my paper and the script for our play while doing this…don't let the effort go to waste! Review! …and enjoy.,xD Ciao!

PS. for those who asked what the connection of the last chapters were to the...I quote "beautiful begining of the story"...(or something like that)...well I need to make Oliver and Enrique fall in love...the more connecting answer is found in this chap...if you missed it...read it again!xD I'm kidding...that'll be up in the next chapters!xD Thanks for that review!


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: damn! what a storm! Literally!xD My country's been recently hit by one…and so now we get two days off! …and thank God for that because I've been having one hell of a busy week! anyway…here's the second to the last chapter for y'all!xD enjoy!

**My Porcelain Doll **

**_Chapter Twenty _**

The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Disaster was in store for the Majestics. It seemed that Enrique's dream was turning into a horrible reality…well, except for the dying part. It just proves how insane the boy's imagination is. So far their standing was good. Actually it was better than good, the Majestics were on top, winning every match old school style.

By the end of the afternoon, they faced only one opposing team. It was a new one called the Barthez Battalion (the name Oliver chortled at because of its inappropriateness, resulting in another of his boring lectures about the medieval portion of his family tree).

The earlier mentioned disaster took place during the break before the crucial deciding match, in which the winner would represent Europe in the Championships.

The four rich aristocrats left their locker room to eat. Robert made sure that the door was locked because their beyblades were inside.

By the time the Majestics returned, the door to their room was ajar, their stuff was in disarray and their blades were tampered with. The members stood in shock for a minute or two before Enrique and Robert went to work examining their beyblades. Oliver and Johnny went about the room to see if any of their belongings were damaged or stolen.

"Darn it…" Enrique hissed. "50 damage in all of our gears! How on earth…"

"We're still playing." Robert declared.

"What?" Oliver and Johnny said in unison.

"50 damage is like a fifty percent chance of losing!" the Scot snapped.

"There's the other 50, John…" the German replied.

"We have no choice…" said Oliver. "Robert's right…we need to play. And I have a sure hunch as to who did this…"

"Aw come on…" the redhead whined as Robert rolled his eyes, the two remembering what happened yesterday morning.

"Hey…" Enrique said, keeping the laptop for its future use in the stadium. "We're winning or losing this match fair and square. At least we'll have a clear conscience, unlike whoever sabotaged our beyblades."

This gave the other member solace and they trooped bravely out of the room, like soldiers heading for battle.

--

The match had three rounds. The team who had the most wins won.

Johnny went against Aaron, a pudgy teen who seemed to want to piss in his pants at any moment due to obvious fright. He was a bastard choice from the Barthez Battalion. Consequently, Johnny won.

Oliver went against Claude next, a sexy seagreen-haired teen who might have come from France too. That was a crushing loss for the Majestics; Claude had a fantastic as well as a breathtakingly beautiful attack that caught Oliver unawares.

Last to go was Robert against Miguel. He was a feisty dirty-blonde tan teen who might have come from Spain. He had dreamy blue eyes and a strong stature. The battle he gave Robert was awesome. The pressure of the fight increased Griffolyon's damage up to 75. And in a mysterious move from Miguel, he threw Robert's blade out the dish, giving the Barthez Battalion victory in the European preliminaries.

Robert, Johnny, Oliver and Enrique left the stadium with their heads held high. Hundreds and thousands of fans followed them like a funeral procession.

Only in the Jurgen castle did they drop their façade.

"Wow…we lost…" Oliver said blankly.

"Well at least we didn't die…" Johnny replied.

Robert snorted. "True…"

Enrique immediately went to work, accessing video footage he caught from the matched earlier.

The four sat in silence for a while, unsure of what they were valuing exactly. One another's company? Their loss? The guilt-free conscience?

"Guys…" Enrique broke the silence and leaned back in his chair. "Take a look at this…"

The other three crowded around him.

"I told you…" said Oliver simply, turning to go to the kitchen to fetch a most delicious batch of coffee cookies made earlier to ease the pain of loss.

"They cheated. "Robert stated plainly. Johnny went away to punch a pillow and turn on the TV.

"Let's go to the Regulations Office and complain!" Enrique said, accessing other data and video footage as evidence.

"What insolence…such uncouth actions!" Robert accused with such grace that Oliver laughed in the kitchen.

"Hey! Losing the preliminaries to some cheating scum is no laughing matter!" the German scolded.

"Guys…" Johnny said from the couch, having watched a certain commercial. "I was thinking of something…"

Three heads turned to look at him; the team could use some valued opinion as of the moment.

"Er…since we wouldn't be playing—" Johnny began.

"Don't say that McGreggor…" Robert warned. "Those bastard played dirty and I'm not allowing our loss to be taken lightly!"

"We still played with battered blades, didn't we?" countered Enrique. "I've told you it's a clear conscience on our part"

"Shut up!" Oliver said, emerging from the kitchen. "Listen to Johnny, will you?" he then turned to the Scot and handed him a cookie. "Do you have a proposal about their cheating?"

At this, the redhead smiled. "I agree with Enrique as of the moment. Of course we'll do something about their cheating, but not today. Let's give the World Championships a head start. I want to watch the World Cup." he ate the cookie in one go.

The statement was greeted by an appalled pause.

"Your offer is tempting, Johnathan…" Robert said, tone lessening in ferocity. "God knows I need to take my mind off this…" he grabbed his keys and went to the garage.

Enrique shrugged and shut the laptop.

"France is going to beat England!" Oliver sang as Johnny hogged the rest of the chef's coffee cookies.

"Not if Italy beats both of you first." Enrique laughed and raced them to Robert's car.

The four zoomed off to Berlin (they had been in Leipzig), bought tickets and roared just like everyone else.

**TBC **

A/N: did y'all like it? the last chap is up next and that's where everything falls into place so watch out for it! …and review, thanks! Enjoy!xD Ciao!


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: here it is…the last chapter…enjoy!xD

**My Porcelain Doll **

**Chapter Twenty-one**

"It's like they're going on a honeymoon instead of going to the BBA Regulations Board to complain…" Oliver huffed as Robert and Johnny left for the airport, leaving he and Enrique without instruction in the Jurgen castle.

Enrique lounged on the couch and said nothing. The elder pair thought it was best to leave the two alone for two weeks…so that the blonde could get to the Frenchman once and for all.

The Majestics had basked in the glory of the World Cup for about three weeks. They had just gotten back from the capital and the euphoria of wins was still very fresh.

"What the hell are we going to do in a house that isn't ours?" the green-haired chef went on with his complaint. It Italian looked at him before standing up and going to his room.

"I don't know either…" he replied. "Want to go to my house?"

Oliver brightened. "Oh…of course!"

So they packed and left.

--

"Gustav!"

"Enrique!"

Oliver sighed and smiled; every time he went to the Giancarlo Palazzi, they greeted each other like that. It made him miss his own parents.

"How is my signorita?" the butler asked jovially; the blonde whacked him playfully and Oliver burst into laughter.

By now it was a known, accepted fact that Enrique was gay (well…so was Oliver) and neither info bothered the members of both parties. In fact, Gustav was even helping Enrique win the delicate French boy.

The trio moved into the living room, updating one another about happenings. Enrique and Oliver had much to say about the Barthez Battalion cheating.

…but of course the dominant conversation topic was the World Cup…

"…so Johnny and Robert left us so they could complain to the Regulations Board. They went alone…" Oliver was emphasizing, ending the statement with a mysterious air of gossip.

"As in only the two of them…" Enrique added, stressing the fact very much. "How are we going to make sure they even reached their destination?"

The old butler laughed. "You two are naughty…very naughty…" then he stood up. "Well young masters, I shan't hinder you any further from your purpose. Dinner shall be served in two hours." and Gustav went away, leaving Oliver and Enrique to themselves.

"Well…" said the lemon-haired boy, shrugging. "We have time to ourselves."

"I want to go to your mother's ballroom again…" Oliver smiled and dragged him to his old bedroom.

The small blue room was stifling hot; the only window it held was wide open, letting in the bright Roman sun, shining its hottest as it was soon to set.

Enrique stole a glance at him, sighing at his cowardice. He went to the window and ran his fingers over the dusty ledge…and laughed.

Oliver turned to look at him with a bemused expression on his face. "What?"

It Italian shook his head and smiled. "When I was four…I had a…er…childhood friend. She was the best and only friend I had till I was eight-ish. I had a closed life when I was young and my friend was my only stronghold."

Oliver stopped his search and listened to his best friend, whom in their years together had never heard him talk about his childhood before.

"Papa was perpetually away…" the blonde continued, staring out the window. "I got Amphilyon for my for my ninth birthday with a letter form papa telling me he made her exclusively for my use…by that time I had graduated from my home schooling. My friend and I now had the freedom denied to us for the better part of my childhood…Instead of making up for it, I devoted myself to beyblading and neglected communication with my friend. She knew what was happening, she wasn't ignorant too, that I know. Slowly she began to withdraw into herself and refused to speak to me. When I asked her what was her problem, she told me not to bother about her. I thought she was dealing with her problem on her own and obliged to her request about leaving her to it. It was the night I left for the Italian Regionals that I learned we were just waiting for a move from the other….we wasted so much time and I regret that now…After a year I returned to this villa with Rosette and Bianca. I was still waiting for my friend…a hello…her comforting hug…but I think she…left. Never knew where she went…" the boy sniffed quietly and turned to Oliver, who, frankly, was lost for words.

"She was very beautiful…kind…smart. I loved her…" Enrique stared at the dusty carpet. "She looked just like you…only whiter…" Summer blue eyes bashfully met shining lavender, awaiting any reaction. To his surprise, the pretty French boy was on the verge of tears.

"If you ever bothered to know her name…we wouldn't take this long…" he replied, voice dripping with emotion.

Enrique blinked. "What? I don't understand…"

The greenette took the blonde's hand and led him to his mother's room which he was shone to before, went inside and locked the door.

"Sit on the bed please, Enri…I want to show you something…" Oliver said before stripping down to his boxers in front of him.

No…I assure you Enrique wasn't used to that. With apparent surprise, he noted that the other boy had more prominent curves that Rosette, and that he looked very much like a girl from the back since Oli had his back turned to his as he chose some sort of garment from his mother's wardrobe.

The Italian watched his best friend frisk about the room in his skimpy underwear, unearthing shoes, accessories and other various items the blonde had no idea how Oliver knew were there.

"I'll just change…" the chef said. "Don't go anywhere…"

Enrique could only nod dumbly, he could hardly believe this was happening.

So far, he wasn't expecting this reaction from Oliver…he had made up his mind to profess love today. But then…

"Enri?" came the French boy's call. It blonde looked up and gasped audibly.

Oliver…looked like…a goddess.

There was no other way to describe it! He. Looked. Like. A. Girl!

Oliver's outfit was an elegant long gown made of sakura-pink, delicate, expensive Chinese silk. Embroidered satin shoes encased his delicate feet. His soft expression was one of love and pain. The delectable apple-red lips that stood out of his pale skin had traces of a smile, like one remembering a lost past.

"You don't remember?" he asked. Enrique couldn't answer, he was as red as a beet root.

Oli sighed. "One final touch…" he took off his beret and fixed his hair a bit before re-presenting himself to the blonde.

The latter mistrusted his sense of sight at that moment.

"P-porcelain doll?" Enrique came to and hugged him tightly. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…"

Oliver pulled away. "_Si'l vu plait_, Enri. The past is past. I want you to love me as you love me, and not as you have loved the doll…"

The Italian nodded and placed the blue beret back on his now-boyfriend's head. "How long have you known?" he asked, happiness swelling inside him like an unstoppable balloon.

The grass-haired boy smiled. "Ever since we died of eating bread."

"Naughty…" the playboy replied huskily before devouring the other boy's mouth in a searing, long-awaited kiss.

**END**

A/N: do I need an epilouge? Review what you think…enjoy!xD and ciAo for now…


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